


Can Be Held Against You

by toosigoosi (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anna fixes him don't worry, Bottom Dean, Castiel Being a Dick, F/F, F/M, I promise, I'm just using fall out boy lyrics for my titles, King Castiel, M/M, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Milton Castle, Omega Dean, Prisoner Dean, Top Castiel, and all that shit, but he gets better I promise, guards are mean, heh, i dont know, i'll add more later, im all hopped on european history knowledge, its midnight, just kidding, loser, nah son there IS rape and shit in this, or Slave Dean?, well medievalish time, you actually read the tags?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/toosigoosi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Milton rules over all of England and Scotland, with their enemies west in Ireland. After an ambush, Castiel's men who survive manage to capture a green-eyed Irish Omega. </p><p>But rather that immediately sentence him to imprisonment, Castiel can't help how he feels for the foul-mouthed Omega...</p><p>(I'm shit at summaries. BASICALLY, Cas is an Alpha King of England and Scotland, and Dean is Irish. 'Cause...Jensen is part Irish...)</p><p>UPDATE: THIS FIC IS BEING DELETED/ORPHANED ON JUNE 2ND</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Need Not Be So Bitter

It wasn't the most ideal information for Castiel to be woken up to. His advisor, Samandriel, had nearly broken down his door at dawn to tell him the news: his British armies had been ambushed on their way to fight the Irish of the West. Of the 400-men sent off to fight, only 20 were confirmed to have returned alive.

 

Castiel felt his internal Alpha growl, the snarl bubbling up from his chest, and his eyes slowly shift to red  as Samandriel stared at him in terror.

 

"And there was...more, Sir," Samandriel said, nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his robe.

 

"What else could there _possibly_ be?" Castiel asked, angrily rubbing his eyes to change them back to their natural blue.  

 

"The men who returned. The guards from the gate say they had a...a prisoner with them, Sir." Castiel's head snapped up as Samandriel took a small step back.

 

"An Irish prisoner?" Castiel asked with interest. Samandriel nodded. "And it was one of their men? One of the Western army who ambushed us?"

 

"The guards aren't, um, sure, Your Highness," Samandriel said. "They say he was walking behind a horse, but he wasn't wearing armour of any kind."

 

Castiel pulled on his night robe and ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to control its unruliness. “They are in the throne room, yes?” Castiel said, starting towards the door before Samandriel had a chance to properly guide him.

 

“Sir!” Samandriel called, shuffling quickly behind Castiel as the king practically flew down the hallway. When he reached the large staircase leading to his throne room, he paused and waited for Samandriel to catch up. The young Beta was panting when he was finally by Castiel’s side. Castiel couldn’t help but crack a smile at the redness of Samandriel’s cheeks.

 

“I’d say you’re due to restart your physical training, Sam,” Castiel said, beginning down the stairs. Somehow, Samandriel’s face grew even redder.

 

“I am an advisor to the king, Your Highness,” Samandriel said, adjusting the pendant that hung around his neck. “Not a page-boy. I needn’t run about the castle.”

 

Castiel let out a full blown laugh, enjoying how comfortable he felt with Samandriel. It greatly helped his conscious, considering how stressed he would be once he entered the throne room.

 

When the large doors to the throne room were visible, Castiel straightened up to his proper height of almost 6 feet. He reached behind his back and gripped his right wrist in his left hand. Samandriel noticed him shifting and lifted his chin, clearing his face any emotion. The guards standing in front of the doors to the throne room--both which he could not recall the names of--moved snappily, reaching for the large handles and pulling the doors open in perfect synchronization. Castiel made a mental note to praise his Head Guard, Meg, for training them so well.

 

“Your Highness,” the guards said as Castiel passed them to enter the extravagant throne room.

 

It had been built and furnished by Castiel’s great-great-great grandfather, named Charles like his father, when he had first become king. It stretched at least forty feet above their heads, and the ceiling was decorated with art done by the most famous artist of the time. The room itself began narrow, much like a regular hallway before widening out to the size of a regular jousting tournament field.

 

Along the walls hung tapestries, each depicting different bits of history from Castiel’s family line: the defeat of the Scottish in the North by his great-great grandfather, Edward of Cambridge; the birth of the first Omega to his family, his great-aunt Mary of Austria; the capturing of the first in many cities in Scotland by his own father, before his death; and finally, at the very end back of the throne room, hanging right above Castiel’s magnificent throne, was his own crowning at the age of twenty-one.

 

That had been almost six years ago, when he wasn’t faced with a potential war on English soil or opposition from his brother, Michael. Castiel sighed. The first year of his reign had been so much easier.

 

Now, twenty men stood in a collective huddle near the throne, each one of their uniforms covered in mud. Their faces were streaked with blood and many of them stared down at the floor, even when Castiel passed them by. Only about half of them managed to mumble, “Your Highness,” as Castiel ascended the steps to the throne.

 

“Bring in the prisoner!” the Head Minister Raphael, one of his cousins, yelled. Off to the right, the door leading to the dungeons was flung open and two guards came forward. Castiel recognized Uriel and Hannah, two of the harshest guards in their garrison, as they came forward, dragging between them who must have the Irish prisoner.

 

Castiel sniffed indignantly, letting a growl slowly rise up in his chest again.

 

 _Calm down, Castiel_ , a voice whispered at the back of his mind. Castiel glanced to his right and huffed out a breath in response to his younger sister, Anna. She was wrapped up in her own night robe, but she had taken the time to place one of her most simple circlets on, one that resembled a crown of vines. _You need not be so bitter_.

 

 _There is an Irish piece of shit in my court_ , Castiel growled back. Anna preferred speaking through one another’s mind when in the throne room, which Castiel personally hated. He didn’t know why they couldn’t converse normally; he was the king, for God’s sake. It didn’t matter what people of his court thought of him. _I will be as bitter as I want._

 

Castiel heard Anna sigh loudly. _Your bitterness will be your downfall, you realize?_

 

Castiel’s hands gripped the arms of his throne as the Irish prisoner was thrown at the foot of the stairs, right by the huddle of troops. Uriel reached forward and ripped the bag covering the prisoner’s head off.

 

Of all the feelings Castiel expected to experience when the prisoner was revealed--sadness, hatred, seething anger--he didn’t expect...arousal?

 

As Hanna forced the prisoner’s head up toward Castiel, the king couldn’t suppress the soft “oh” that slipped from his lips.

 

Shit. He was beautiful. Far away as he was, Castiel could clearly see the bright green of the prisoner’s eyes, which stood out against the stark paleness of his skin, despite the streaks of blood on his face and neck. Hanna’s fingers tightly gripped his short light brown hair, the same color of the smattering of freckles over his nose and cheeks and neck.

 

Castiel’s nostrils flared as he caught a strange scent. He stood up, and finally met the eyes of the prisoner. He smirked--actually _smirked_ \--as gold suddenly melded with the green of his eyes.

  
 _Oh fuck_. He was an Omega.


	2. I'm Impressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And the British call us barbaric."

Castiel felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed. The prisoner--the Irish _Omega_ \--smirked as Castiel began his descent down the steps. He felt one side of his mouth curl up in a snarl as he came closer to the prisoner, his hands clenching and unclenching in anger.

 

This man was one of the many who had killed so many of Castiel’s men. He’d probably been wearing that same smirk as he’d cut down innocent man after innocent man, then laughed as they lay dying in a pool of their own blood. The image alone made Castiel dig his nails into his palm. It took all of Castiel’s willpower to keep himself from strangling the cocky son of a bitch.

 

“Does he speak English?” Castiel asked, maintaining eye contact with the Omega as he spoke to Uriel. The Omega’s nose twitched, likely scenting Castiel’s Alpha rank, and the gold of his eyes grew brighter, enhancing the green of them.

 

“He does not speak much, Your Highness,” Uriel replied, a slight snarl in his voice. As a Beta, much like almost every member of Castiel’s court, Uriel couldn’t scent that the prisoner was an Omega. If he had been able to, there’s no doubt Uriel would have killed him in his cell. “And when he has it has be only in that _filthy_ Irish tongue,” Uriel spat at the Omega’s head.

 

Castiel met Hanna’s eyes. “Release him,” he ordered, taking a single step back. Hanna released the Omega’s hair. The Omega’s head dropped down and his chin hit his chest.

 

Castiel exhaled sharply. He flicked a hand, gesturing that Uriel and Hanna step back. Castiel walked up to the prisoner, right wrist clasped in his left hand, and knelt down on one knee. Up this close, Castiel could hear the Omega’s fast breathing. Despite that, one of Castiel’s hands shot out and grabbed the Omega’s chin in his fingertips.

 

“ _You killed many of my men_ ,” Castiel spat in fluent Gaelic. The Omega’s face was forced to look up at Castiel’s and his eyes widened in surprise. Castiel’s fingers tightened. “ _You slaughtered them where they stood, and you did not care_.”

 

Even while Castiel sounded like an aggressive True Alpha, he couldn’t help the soft sigh as he met looked into the Omega’s face. This close, Castiel could see the long eyelashes framing his half-golden-half-green eyes, the freckles visible from his throne actually covered all of Dean’s face, some even spilling down onto his neck, and the full and pink lips. Lips that were beginning to form into another arrogant smirk.

 

The Omega laughed loudly.  

 

“I’m impressed,” the Omega said, his smirk morphing into a full smile. A true genuine smile that made Castiel falter slightly. “I’ve never heard of a British king speaking Gaelic as well as you have.”

 

Castiel’s lips curled up in a snarl. “I did not learn for tricks,” he said, sliding his hand down to grip the front of the Omega’s prisondress. He pulled the Omega close enough that their noses nearly touched. “I learned so I am better able to converse when forced to speak with _scum_ like you.”

 

The Omega laughed, almost giggled, again, meeting Castiel’s unblinking eyes. “And the British call _us_ barbaric,” he said, tilting his head to one side. The gold had about drained from his green eyes, but as the Omega glanced quickly at the huddle of shocked troops, the gold suddenly returned.

 

“You will tell us how you were able to ambush the British troops we sent out, or we will be forced to execute you,” Castiel said, releasing the Omega’s prisondress and standing. The Omega looked up at him, through his eyelashes, with his half-gold-half-green eyes, and _fuck_ , if that didn’t make Castiel want to leave mating bites all over the freckles going up the Omega’s neck.

 

“And what good would _that_ do?” the prisoner said, sitting back on his heels. Castiel watched Hanna snap her whip at his back, and the prisoner winced before raising back up on his knees. “You would have no information, given that I would have refused to speak. Not to mention that you would never have a chance at capturing one of my people ever again.”

 

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest, a stance not associated with kings of England. “We managed to capture you,” he said.

 

The Omega nodded then glanced at the huddle of men again.

 

“You’re not wrong about that,” he said, looking back to Castiel. “But I’m not exactly one whom the Irish king particularly cares about. I would not strengthen your chances of defeating my people, nor would any information I _do_ have.”

 

Castiel did not let his face falter this time. “What are you suggesting I do?”

 

“Let me go,” the Omega said, his tongue quickly darting out of his mouth to wet his lips. Then he shrugged. “Or kill me. I’ll take whatever method that I can to escape the dismality of this castle.”

 

Castiel broke eye contact with the Omega to meet Uriel’s. The guard looked as though he wanted to slit the bastard’s throat rather than wait to properly execute him. Castiel looked to Hanna and sighed.

 

“Return him to his cell,” he said in English to the guards. He spun around on his heel, placing a hand to his forehead to hopefully rub away the migraine slowly forming. “And keep him there until he is ready to speak or I summon him.”

 

“ _No_ ,” the Omega screamed in Gaelic. As Castiel sat back in his throne, he watched Uriel and Hanna force up the struggling Omega prisoner to his feet and drag him towards the entrance to the prison cells. The Omega shook his head furiously, the smell of his fear drifting towards Castiel. “ _No, no. Don’t take me back. I can’t! I can’t!_ ”

 

Castiel shifted as he was forced to scent the rancidity of the Omega’s fear. The Omega fought the whole way to the door, and Castiel caught sight of his eyes, which were completely drained of gold and slowly shifting to purple, the color of terror.

 

Uriel and Hanna made it to the prison door and the sounds of the prisoner’s shouts were finally muffled as the door was shut. The silence was uncomfortable, stifling even.

 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Anna said quietly. Castiel glanced at her and her face was pale and she looked sick.

 

“You know I had to,” Castiel said, settling back into his throne. It had never been comfortable to him: his grandfather had added the pomp and overall grandeur to the throne when he had ruled. Castiel didn’t find the throne beautiful, with its jewels and gold. He didn’t appreciate how the very shape of the colossal thing made him sit uncomfortably. If it were up to him, he’d replace the useless throne with a simple collection of cushions from a shop near the castle. Castiel shook his head.

 

He couldn’t. The throne meant too much to his family. It didn’t matter if he was king of all of fucking Europe; the throne would stay.

 

“I will have Samandriel escort all of you to your rooms,” Castiel announced to the troops still standing by the steps. “You may leave now.” Samandriel met Castiel’s eyes once before he began leading the group of troops to the front of the throne room. Once they were gone, Castiel let himself slide down in his throne.

 

“I didn’t know you’d learned Irish,” Anna muttered. She slid down in her own throne, which was significantly smaller than Castiel’s, and slipped off her circlet. She then flung it forward to where the prisoner had been kneeling. Castiel heard it hit the ground and watched it roll away before settling down.

 

“Father told the instructors to teach me once I had become king,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “It was grueling, and I nearly set fire to the library.”

 

Anna breathed out a short laugh, which ended with a yawn. She stood, pulling her night robe tighter around her body.

 

“I will return to my room,”`she said, starting towards the steps. Castiel groaned his response and slid down further in his throne. After Anna left the throne room, Castiel ran his hands through his hair.

  
His fingers vaguely smelled of the prisoner’s prisondress, and he couldn’t help himself from deeply inhaling the faint scent of Omega on his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look I'm not late on an update.


	3. Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look's like we've caught a proper Omega bitch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ANOTHER, update?!?!? Waaaat?

Dean groaned as he rolled on his back. He'd taken off the top-half of his armor as part of a debt with Victor, and now regretted it. One of the British bastards had caught him in his side with a ridiculous broadsword. Still, it had managed to easily sliced through the material of his tunic and down to his skin. He brought a hand down to his side, and winced when he felt the blooding slowly leaking from just below his right rib. 

 

"Damn it," he muttered. He forced himself to sit up, shedding off the bottom of his armor, and brought one of his arms up to his face. When he inhaled, his Omega scent was faint. He'd sweat too much. 

 

"I gotta get back to the others," he said to himself. He stood up, placing the bulk of his weight on his non-injured side, and began walking.

 

He'd ended up farther in the woods than the other members of his ambush formation, chasing down one of the British cowards who'd managed to knock Benny off of his horse. As he stepped over the corpse, blood still flowing from where Dean had slit his throat, he suddenly felt eyes on him. He breathed evenly to keep his paranoia down and continued until the edge of the forest was in sight. 

 

It's a wonder how Dean was surprised when an arrow pierced his back. It didn't hurt too much; most of the pain he felt were attributed to the wound in his side. Despite that, he couldn't help crying out and falling forward onto his knees. He gasped as he reached back to feel for where it had hit. As he did, three British soldiers came running from behind the trees, swords and bows drawn. They were yelling at themselves in English. Dean was glad he'd learned from Missouri. 

 

" _Why the fuck did you just shoot him?_ " a tall soldier with blonde hair shouted. The British never wore face masks, which Dean and the Irish saw as a stupid move. 

 

" _We can capture him and take him back to the King's castle_ ," said another soldier with brown skin and blood smeared over his face and armor. He didn't have as strong of an accent like his counterpart. " _We'll let the King deal with him_."

 

" _I say we just kill him now, and leave his body to rot_ ," said an older soldier with thinning gray hair and bugged out eyes. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and he stomped towards Dean. As he came closer, Dean scented that the soldier was an Alpha. 

 

_God fucking dammit._

 

The Alpha grabbed the top of Dean's hair and then tugged the strands so Dean looked up at him. The Alpha's eyes were slowly changing red as Dean felt the backs of his eyes tingle as gold began mixing with green.

 

_No, no I can't reveal myself._

 

The Alpha narrowed his eyes and used his grip in Dean's hair to tilt his face further back. 

 

"Well, would you look at that," the Alpha said. He released Dean's hair and placed his thumb on the Omega's bottom lip. 

 

" _Present_ ," the Alpha said threateningly. 

 

No matter how hard he resisted, Dean couldn't stop his eyes from turning gold and he felt slick begin seeping out of him as his body was forced to fall face-down on the ground with his ass in the air. 

 

"Well, well," the Alpha chuckled. "Hey boys, looks like we've caught a proper Omega bitch."

 

Dean never cried. The Irish never cried, and Irish soldiers never cried during battle. But at this point, he couldn't help it. He was an Omega. He should be allowed to cry. 

* * *

* * *

The two Beta guards dragged Dean kicking and screaming back to his cell. The woman walked a little ways behind Dean and the man, occasionally smacking Dean with her whip when he made an attempt to run. 

 

But really, Dean was just tired. He _wanted_ to give in; he wanted to submit like his Omega nature wanted to the demands of an Alpha.

 

An Alpha king.

 

A _fucking attractive_ Alpha king. Dean bit his lip as the mere thought of the blue-eyed Alpha made him blush and his eyes turn gold.

 

He kept his head down as he was forced into his cell so the Betas couldn’t see the color of his eyes. After the bindings around his wrists were cut off, he sat against the farthest wall, pressing careful fingers to the bandage on his side. The cut still throbbed painfully on occasion, but only truly hurt when he applied pressure. He assumed that meant the cut was beginning to heal. 

 

“Did you enjoy your meeting with the king, little girl?” a voice asked off to the side. 

 

Dean froze. He dropped his head. 

 

“Get away from me,” he said, voice shaking. “J-just stay back.”

 

Alistair laughed and stepped forward from the shadows into the dim light from the candles set up. “Aw, don’t be like that, _Omega_ ,” the Alpha guard said. He pulled a ring of keys from his belt loop and picked out the one for Dean’s cell. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

“You’re lying,” Dean said, torn on whether to attempt fighting back or just roll over and take it.  

 

Alistair turned the key and pulled open the door to the cell. As he shut it behind him, Dean became aware of slick beginning to slowly dribble out of him. Alistair spun his keys on his finger as he came closer to Dean. 

 

“Why don’t you go ahead and _present_ , little Omega?” Alistair said, shoving his keys back into his pocket and flashing his eyes red while pulling down his trousers. 

 

Dean released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding as he turned over and stuck his ass in the air. He heard Alistair inhale a sharp breath, then sensed the guard kneel down behind Dean. He closed his eyes as Alistair yanked down the trousers he wore under his prisondress, and bit his lip to keep from crying as the Alpha thrust into him.

 

“Don’t worry, Omega,” Alistair whispered into Dean’s neck. Dean felt Alistair smile against his skin. “I won’t hurt you.”

* * *

 


	4. Almost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Tell me."
> 
> "Sir?"
> 
> "Tell me how much you want this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, I'm late, not too surprising.

Castiel felt like drowning himself. He’d been steeping in a hot bath prepared by his room-servant since he left the throne room over an hour ago. The bath had cooled down to lukewarm at best, and Castiel’s skin was beginning to wrinkle under the water. But he just didn’t feel up to forcing himself out of the water. 

 

Maybe it something to do with the fact he couldn’t get that Omega’s arrogant and annoyingly beautiful green eyes out of his head. Or maybe it was that he feared that he wouldn’t be able to keep from shamelessly rutting against his bed while the visual of himself fucking the Omega’s ass relentlessly constantly replayed in the very front of his mind.

 

Castiel groaned loudly and sank under the water so it lapped at his cheekbones. He exhaled, creating bubbles in the water, and gripped the edges of his tub. He dunked his head once under the water, then pushed himself up and out of the water. He shivered in the chilly air of the bathroom as he rang for his room-servant. The shy Beta, Inias, scurried into the bathroom from the main room, carrying a large towel. As Inias began drying off his body, Castiel's mind wandered to thoughts of the green-eyed Omega. 

 

Castiel looked down at the Beta as he kneeled to begin toweling off his legs. With Inias kneeling in front of him, Castiel immediately thought of how the Omega would look in the same position. Castiel's dick twitched as he imagined the Omega's green eyes flooding with gold as he swallowed him down in one go. 

 

"Inias?" Castiel said, struggling to keep himself from hardening in front of the Beta. It took most of his concentration to keep the images of the Omega from his mind. 

 

Inias looked up at Castiel. “Yes, Your Highness?” the Beta said quietly. Castiel was disappointed that Inias’ blue eyes didn’t change color like an Alpha or Omega’s. It would have taken his mind off of the Omega, if only for a minute. 

 

“What say you of my decision?” Castiel asked. “To...keep that Irish prisoner alive?”

 

Inias shook his head and went back to drying off Castiel’s body. He began carefully drying Castiel’s crotch as he spoke. “E-Excuse me if I’m...overstepping my boundaries, Your Highness, but...you shouldn't have kept him alive."

 

Castiel's eyebrows raised. Inias never spoke more than a few words when he was in Castiel's presence, and that was only when he had to. 

 

“Oh? Why do you say that?” Castiel asked. He watched Inias shift uncomfortably as he began to stand. Inias kept his head and shoulders down when he spoke to Castiel, much like how a properly trained Omega would. 

 

“I-I…” Inias shook his head frantically and met the king’s eyes. “I shouldn’t say anything, Sir, i-it’s not my place.”

 

Castiel moved closer to Inias and reached out a single hand. He grabbed the Beta’s chin and raised his face to meet Castiel’s, forcing his downcast eyes to meet the king’s piercing blue ones. 

 

“I’ve asked you a question, Inias,” Castiel said, voice dropping an octave. Inias shuddered as Castiel brought their faces close enough that their nose touched. Slowly, Castiel began taking steps forward, forcing Incas backward until his back hit the wall far away from them. “Why do you believe I should have had him killed?”

 

Inias swallowed, face burning red. "It's just that...well, he's an Irishman. One who's no doubt helped kill many of our men, and I feel that..." Inias trailed off, glancing to his right, then sighed. "I feel that it would be in the better interest of the kingdom for him to simply be executed." 

 

"Rather than keep him prisoner, you mean?" Castiel asked, tilting his head to the side. “Rather than I be gracious and allow a man whom we do not know to have killed the men of my army live?”

 

"Yes, Your Highness," he said, swallowing again. "He could...he could escape and murder Anna, or worse...you. Or he would summon the men of Ireland right here, to our borders, and attack when we least expect it.”

 

Castiel watched Inias’ tongue dart out and wet his lips, just like the Omega had in the throne room, then looked up to meet the Beta’s cold dark blue eyes. Castiel’s face felt hotter than normal and when he reached a hand up to tange in the Beta’s long unruly hair, he remembered the jug of wine he’d practically chugged when he’d first sunk into his bath. 

 

“You make a fair argument, Inias,” Castiel said, using his grip in the Beta’s hair to pull his face closer. Inias’ breathing grew faster and more laboured as Castiel exhaled across his face. 

 

“Sir?” Inias practically squeaked. “Sir, w-we can’t...n-not now…”

 

“And why not?” Castiel said, dropping a hand down to palm Inias’ crotch. He smirked as he felt the other man’s bulge through his trousers. “It’s obvious that you’ve missed our time together...I know that I have.” Castiel would have argued with anyone who would have said he was drunk. 

 

“Si--” Inias whispered before Castiel was pressing his lips hard against the other man’s. He sighed loudly as Inias dropped the towel and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s neck, deepening the kiss.

 

Castiel sighed again as he released Inais’ hair to reach down and grasp his thighs, pulling him up to wrap his legs around Castiel’s waist. Inias tangled his fingers in the back of Castiel’s hair as the Alpha shoved him back against the wall, hard enough for their crotches to press to together and force a hiss from Castiel.

 

“This is dangerous, Your Highness,” Inias muttered as Castiel began pressing open-mouthed kisses to the Beta’s neck. Inias was shuddering as Castiel lightly bit as the skin of his neck and jaw. “W-we shouldn’t be d-doing this, Sir.”

 

Castiel buried his nose in Inias’ neck, searching for some kind, _any kind_ , of remotely distinct scent on the Beta. His hands tightly gripped Inias’ thighs as he began grinding against him. 

 

“You have to obey me, Inias,” Castiel said against the side of Inias’ neck. “I’m an Alpha, and your king. And I know you want this too.” Inias’ hands tightened in Castiel’s hair as he began shaking uncontrollably. 

 

“Tell me.”

 

“Sir?” 

 

Castiel felt his eyes almost tingle as they began turning red with his arousal. “Tell me how much you want this Inias.”

 

“ _Sir…”_

 

One of Castiel’s hands reached up and grabbed Inias’ hair again, this time using it to shove the Beta’s head back against the wall. “I shall not ask again,” he growled, baring his teeth.

 

Inias whimpered. “ _Please…_ ”

 

“Please what?”

 

“P-please... _knot me_ , Sir,” Inias moaned, meeting Castiel’s eyes with a sudden heat and intensity he’d never seen before. 

 

* * *

* * *

 

As Castiel lay on top of a sleeping Inias, he had almost forgotten about the Omega. 

 

_Almost._

* * *

 


	5. If I So Desired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Enjoy the stocks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3 days early, guys. Whaaaaat?

Dean woke up the next morning with a pain between his legs and a throbbing head. When he blinked, it felt like his eyelids would stick together forever. He forced himself up off the ground, supporting his weight on his shaking arms. 

 

“What did he do to me?” Dean muttered to himself, crawling towards the wall across from his cell. Just as he pressed his back to the wall, he heard the painfully familiar nasally laugh of the Alpha guard.

 

“You should crawl around on your hands and knees more often, beautiful,” Alistair commented, leaning up against the bars of Dean’s cell. He cocked his head to the side. “It suits you...with such an amazing ass.”

 

“G-get away from me,” Dean whispered. He’d meant to sound threatening — to snarl it at the cocky son of a bitch then lunge forward and choke the life out of him — but he didn’t. He _couldn’t_. He was exhausted from the—surely—hours Alistair had spent with him, bringing him right to the cliff between pleasure and pain and shoving him over only to drag him right to another edge. 

 

“Oh, don’t be that way, my precious Omega,” Alistair said. He pulled the key to Dean’s cell from his belt and unlocked the door. As he came into the cell, Dean frantically searched the floor for something to use as a weapon. He found nothing but the sweat, slick, and cum stained floor cover. 

 

“No, don’t! S-Stay back!” Dean whimpered. 

 

Alistair scoffed. “I’m not going to knot you, stupid bitch,” he said, grabbing Dean’s arm and hauling him up from the ground. Dean cried out as weight was placed on the leg that had been pinned uncomfortably beneath him and Alistair not too long ago. “The king has requested you be brought up to the throne room. Appears that he wishes to speak with you again.”

 

“N-no,” Dean muttered, swaying slightly to the side as Alistair began dragging him towards the entrance of the cell. He was only vaguely aware of cuffs being placed around his wrists and a rope tied around his midsection. He was led toward the steep stairs that went up to the throne room, and there were the two guards from yesterday. The man wrinkled his nose as Dean was brought closer.

 

“ _He reeks of you, Alistair_ ,” he said in English. Dean grimaced as he sniffed the air. Besides the trademark stench of a dungeon, there was only the mixed scents of Dean’s sweat and Alistair's arousal. 

 

“Couldn’t help myself,” Alistair answered, passing Dean over to the two Beta guards. Dean let his head drop to his chest as the guards continued chatting. “He smelled delicious in his cell, absolutely dripping with the smell of fear and submission. You’d understand if you were an Alpha, Uriel.”

 

Uriel’s lip curled up in a snarl as his fingers tightened on Dean’s bicep. “You son of a—”

 

“We don’t need a recount from you, Alistair,” the female guard said. Her face was flat as she spoke. “Just make sure you at least clean him next time the king asks for him.” With that, the female guard and Uriel turned and began marching Dean up the step to the throne room. 

 

“Oh you know you like it too, Hannah!” Alistair called after them. 

 

Dean didn’t bother glancing behind him as he was forced up the stairs, stumbling more than once. Each time he fell, barely catching himself on his hands tied together in front of him, Hannah would lightly whip him while Uriel barked, “Get up, piece of trash,” or something of the like. 

 

When they reached the top, Dean heard a voice yell, “Bring him out!” At the same time, Uriel and Hannah shoved open the door and Dean was back in the throne room. He lifted his head from his chest.

 

It looked about the same—same large tapestries, same Christian paraphernalia in every available empty space, same guards that looked to have rods shoved up their asses standing at attention. The large throne centered in the room was even the same, the only difference being the man sitting in it. 

 

Dean exhaled as he was forced forward closer to the king. His unruly black hair and dark blue eyes were the same as they had been the night before, but his entire demeanor somehow looked even  _more_ tired. He slouched farther in his seat and rested his chin against his fist, which seemed to be the only thing keeping his head up. As Dean came closer, he saw the king’s pupils were ever-so-slightly tinged with red. 

 

“That’s far enough,” the king said. Uriel and Hannah stopped forcing Dean forward and shoved him down to his knees. Dean winced as his knees cracked against the hard ground. 

 

Dean looked up an met the king’s eyes. Despite his exhaustion and overall pain, Dean managed a smirk. 

 

“Mornin’, Your Highness,” Dean said, his voice hoarse, no doubt from his screams the night before. He purposely spoke Gaelic, partly to keep whatever he said with the king strictly between the two of them and partly because he liked watching the king speak his language. 

 

The king’s face screwed up as he sat forward in his throne. 

 

“How did you enjoy your first night in an British cell?” the king asked, titling his head to the side. 

 

Dean shrugged. “Not too bad,” he said. “A bit dank compared to the dungeons of Dublin, but it shall suffice for the duration of time I am to remain in this Godforsaken castle.”

 

“And how long do you believe that shall be?” the king inquired. Dean noticed that his hands were clutching one another tightly, so tight that the knuckles were white.

 

Again, Dean shrugged. “Given that I plan on leaving this castle either as a fugitive or a corpse, that depends solely on you, _Your Highness_.” Dean watched the king’s throat work as he swallowed and the red in his eyes grew brighter. He suddenly stood and descended the steps in front of his throne. 

 

Dean noticed the slightest of a bulge in the king’s trousers as he stopped in front of Dean. As Dean look up to meet the king’s eyes, the Alpha grabbed Dean’s hair and forced his face up rather than kneeling to the Omega’s height. 

 

“Do not tempt me,” the king growled. “I could have your throat slit in the next second if I so desired.” 

 

Dean swallowed, hoping his eyes wouldn’t betray his sudden and unwelcome arousal by turning gold, and forced himself to laugh in the king’s face.

 

“You won’t kill me,” Dean said, smirking. 

 

“Are you so sure of that?”

 

“If you were going to kill me, I would have been sent to be beheaded immediately,” Dean said, holding the king’s steady gaze. “So you’re either to afraid to have me killed, or you need something from me. Or, even better, both.”

 

The king’s nose wrinkled as if he’d caught a bad scent. “ _If I so desired._ At this current moment, I do not desire you dead, Irishman,” he said, using his grip in Dean’s hair to yank him to his feet. Dean could now see that he was about an inch taller than the king. 

 

“So what shall you do now, _Your Highness?_ ” he asked sarcastically. “Send me back to rot in my cell?”

 

The king released Dean’s hair as his face broke into a cruel smile. “Worse,” he said. 

 

“Send him to the scaffold of the center of the town,” he said to either Uriel or Hannah in English. “He is to be kept in the stockades for the duration of the day enduring ignominy until he reveals how the Irish were able to ambush my army.” The king threw Dean a smug and angry glance.

 

“Understood, Your Highness,” Hannah said while nodding. 

 

Dean felt himself break out in a cold sweat. _No. No, anything but the stocks_. 

 

“Get him out of my sight,” the king snarled, flicking his hand in the direction of the throne room's exit and meeting Dean’s eyes. Despite how threatening he sounded, Dean saw that his eyes had turned fully red, betraying him. 

 

Uriel and Hannah grabbed Dean and suddenly everything was dark. Dean began hyperventilating as he realized they had covered his eyes with a blindfold and were now beginning to drag him backwards towards the exit. 

 

“Enjoy the stocks,” Dean heard the king say, almost sing, in Gaelic. 

 

 _I hate him_ , Dean thought.

* * *

 


	6. Not Too Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I know that you'll be smart and make the right decision."

_“What you’re doing is just plain stupid, Dean.”_

_Dean rolled his eyes. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, taking a sip of the ale in front of him. “Anything_ worth _doing is always stupid. How do you think we managed to get in a war with the English?”_

_Sam narrowed his eyes but continued eating his dinner. The dining hall had been too full when Sam and Dean had gone for dinner—too many soldiers preparing to ride off into battle against the English as well as the royal family members. Instead, Dean and Sam had managed to snag a few loaves of bread and pitchers of ale and wine and retreated to the library, Sam’s favorite room in the castle. Now, they sat at one of the long studying tables, ones that Dean hadn’t seen in nearly six years, enjoying a small meal._

_“Dean…y-you know you’ll be punished if you’re caught,” Sam said.. “Dad’ll kill you if he finds out what you’re trying to do.”_

_“I’d rather die by my father’s hand than die by the sword of an Englishman,” Dean said. “You know that, Sam.”_

_Sam made something that sounded like a choking sound. Dean looked over to him, cup halfway to his lips, and sighed. He set his cup down on the table and turned to face his brother, leaning his forearms on his thighs._

_“Sam…I have to do this,” he said, meeting his younger brother’s hazel eyes. “No one in the kingdom will ever take me seriously if I don’t, with me being an Omega and all…”_

_“I-I know that, Dean,” Sam said, disregarding the bread and wine to face Dean fully. “But there has to be some other way to prove yourself than going into battle against the fucking English.”_

_Dean smirked. “Didn’t realize you had such a mouth on you, Sammy,” he said, reaching forward to grab Sam and pull him into a hug._

_“For the love of shit, stop calling me ‘Sammy’,” he groaned, returning the hug despite his tone. “I’m not twelve anymore. Plus, I’m an Alpha.”_

_“Like that makes a difference,” Dean chuckled, holding onto to Sam’s shoulders as he pulled back from the hug. It wasn’t often Dean saw Sam smile genuinely, or saw him at all for that matter. Since he’d presented as an Omega, Dean had been kept practically prisoner to his wing of the Winchester Castle, trained day and night on how to be the “proper model of the ideal and perfect Omega.” He only ever saw his brother at dinner, and only if he managed to escape from his wing long enough._

_“It should, and you know it,” Sam said, beginning to gather up the dishes they’d used as well as the half empty wine jug. As Dean rose to help, Sam placed a hand on his arm. “Dean, wait.”_

_“Jesus Sam, just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean I shouldn’t—” Dean started._

_“No, it’s not that,” Sam said, setting down the dishes in his hands. He reached to his shirt collar, which was frayed despite their social standing, and pulled free the pendant he wore around his neck. “Here.”_

_Dean shook his head. “No, I can’t take that, Sam,” he said, meeting his brother’s eyes again._

_“Just take it,” Sam said, slipping it off over his head and placing it in Dean’s palm, closing his fist around it. “You’ll need it more than me, if you go through with this convoluted plan to join the army.”_

_Dean felt his eyes tingle, threatening to turn gray with sadness, as he pulled Sam into another hug. Standing up, Dean could see now that Sam had grown to be only a few inches shorter than Dean._

_“When did you get so fucking tall?” Dean asked against the top of Sam’s head, inhaling his brother’s comforting scent of leather-bound books._

_Sam laughed and pulled back from the hug smiling up at him._

_“When did you—?”_

* * *

 “Irish piece of shit!”

 

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he managed to raise his head just as a random townsman lunged at Dean, knife in hand. The guards standing on either side of the gallows caught the townsman just as he climbed onto the scaffold, eyes wild and knife slashing.

 

Dean couldn’t control the shaking of his hands as the man came close enough to catch the side of Dean’s face. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it throbbed painfully whenever the occasional tear managed to slide into it.

 

“No attacking the prisoner,” Uriel said in a bored tone.

 

Dean let his head hang as the taunting began once again, the mass of yelling from the townspeople punctuated with “Irish scum!” and “Demonic bitch!” or the all-too-favorite “Irish piece of shit!” Occasionally, someone would work up the courage and risk throwing something—a shoe, a rotten tomato, a handful of mud—at Dean, who always trembled whenever their throws came a little too close to his face.

 

 _You can do this,_ he told himself whenever someone spat at him. _You are an Irishman. You’re an Irishman. You’re a fucking Irishman._

Despite this, Dean still felt tears dripping down his face as the hours continued to pass.

 

Sometime around what felt like three days since he’d left that stupid throne room, when Dean’s mouth was dry enough to crack at the slightest movement and his eyes stuck together from tears and dirt every time he blinked, someone lightly slapped the side of his face to wake him from his stupor.

 

“I know you can’t understand me, kid,” a surprisingly calm and soothing voice said. “But we’re going to let you up now. Orders from the king.”

 

 _That asshole?_ Dean thought. He remained still as they unlocked the stocks, unable to move anyway. He was pulled up from the stocks and basically dropped on the scaffold beside them. When he hit the wood, he whimpered as the multiple cramps in his neck sent stabbing pain up his spine. Judging by the lack of taunts and offensive remarks, enough of the townspeople had returned home for the day, probably for work or out of sheer boredom.

 

“Drink,” the same soothing voice said. Dean looked up. The voice belonged to a dark-haired female guard standing in front of him, a Beta by the looks of it. She was holding out a medium-sized wineskin, which was actually filled with water Dean noted as he downed half of it in one gulp. “It’s a long walk back to the castle.”

 

“Please,” he said, voice pleading and still hoarse. “Please, I-I can’t go back there.”

 

The woman’s face paled. “So you _can_ speak English.”

 

 _Shit_. Dean hadn’t realized he’d spoken English instead of Gaelic, nearly dropping the wineskin in the process.

 

“ _N-no, I—_ ” he began in Gaelic.

 

“Don’t try pulling that shit with me,” the woman hissed. She knelt down beside Dean, ripping the wineskin from his hands. “Have you been able to understand us ever since you got here? Don’t fucking lie to me.”

 

Dean met the woman’s cold eyes, breathing heavily and desperately trying to get rid of the dry feeling in his mouth. He nodded, biting his bottom lip.

 

The woman sighed. She handed the wineskin back to Dean. “Finish that, then turn around so I can bind your wrists together,” she muttered, staring down Dean intently. Dean obeyed, a little upset he didn’t have time to savor the water he’d been given, and willingly crossed his arms behind his back, turning around so his back was to the woman.

 

“You know,” the woman said, “You’re being rather calm about all of this. I’ve seen Alphas twice your size give up after the first hour.” She finished tying Dean’s wrists in a complicated knot that made it possible for him to move his hands without fear of chafing his wrists. “How old are you?”

 

Dean kept quiet. He wouldn’t tell how he was used to the gallows from all the so-called “training”  his father had given him routinely when he was younger, before he’d presented as an Omega. He wouldn’t tell her how he was only 19, one year shy from marriage age. And he especially wouldn't tell her to—

 

“Fuck off,” Dean said through his teeth before he could stop himself. The woman hit him on the shoulder, causing Dean to cry out in pain.

 

“Show some fucking respect. I won't hesitate telling my partner about how you can speak English,” the woman hissed in Dean’s ear. Dean swallowed, nodding, but continued grinding his teeth together as the woman helped him stand. His knees screamed in pain from the hours he’d spent on them, but he only let out a quiet whimper to betray him.

 

“My name’s Jody,” the woman said as she shoved Dean forward toward to stairs leading down from the scaffold.

 

“Dean,” he managed to whisper to her before Uriel strode up and stood on the other side of Dean.

 

“Move it, scum,” Uriel hissed, slapping the back of Dean’s head.

 

_At least Jody’s not too bad._

* * *

* * *

**Earlier**

Castiel had just shut the door to his room after leaving the throne room when his sister suddenly burst in. Her brown eyes looked brighter than normal, and her red hair was pulled up in ponytail, which she normally only wore when riding at the stables.

 

“ _Castiel!_ ” she practically screeched, slamming the door shut behind her. Some of the ornament armor pieces on Castiel’s walls shuddered at the force as Anna strode forward angry, her eyes appearing to turn red despite her being a Beta. “You sent him to the _gallows? What the fuck is wrong with you?_ ”

 

Castiel raised a hand, stopping Anna from clawing at his face, and asked calmly, “We’re talking about the Irish prisoner, yes?”

 

Anna looked ready to tear him apart. “Of course we are, you fuckass,” she fumed. Castiel couldn’t hold back his small chuckle. It didn’t matter how old Anna was—she still somehow managed to look like an angry 16-year old anytime she swore too much. “Now, tell me what the hell made you decide to send the captured member of our number-one enemy to the gallows for public humiliation, or so help me—”

 

“You’re funny when you get mad, sis,” Castiel said, cracking a small smile. “You look a lot like mom.”

 

Anna narrowed her eyes. “I’m being serious, you dick,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

 

“ _Language_ , Anael,” Castiel said, letting his far-too regal cloak slip off his shoulders.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” she said.

 

Castiel sighed. There was no point in trying to calm her down with humor. Anna was stubborn, and the Alpha knew she wouldn’t leave until he’d answered her completely and honestly.

 

“I…I guess I panicked,” Castiel said, looking down at the ground.

 

“You _guess_?”

 

“Fine, I panicked because I couldn’t think of a better way to punish the bastard,” Castiel said, raising his head. He met Anna’s eyes and copied her narrow-eyed look. “Because I’ve never had to deal with the possibility of a _war_ with an enemy that even I barely understand while remaining the formidable king of this backward kingd—”

 

Anna cut him off by slapping him across the face, moving so fast the when Castiel fell back on his bed and clutched at his cheek, he half believed he had imagined it. “ _What the hell_ , Anna?”

 

“Cut the bullshit, Castiel,” Anna said, her teeth gritted together. “Admit that you were too harsh on that prisoner.”

 

“And why would I do that?” Castiel asked angrily.

 

Anna leaned forward, close enough for their noses to nearly touch. Her eyes were still narrowed, but Castiel saw them briefly flash red as she stood up.

 

“I know that he’s an Omega,” Anna said. “I know that you know too. I watched how his eyes turned gold in the throne room.”

 

“And what of it?”

 

Anna sighed and uncrossed her arms. She placed her hands on Castiel’s shoulders then leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead.

 

“I know that you’ll be smart and make the right decision,” Anna said, squeezing his shoulders once. She left after that, closing his door quietly behind her as a complete opposite from when she first entered.

 

Castiel groaned loudly as he ran his hands through his hair, flopping back onto his bed.

 

“ _Iniiiiiias_ ,” Castiel moaned, rolling onto his stomach and wrapping himself up in his top most bed sheet. “ _Iniiiiiiiiiiiias_.” He continued calling for the Beta servant until he appeared in the doorway, illuminated by the light from the window behind Castiel’s bed.

 

Castiel managed to avoid making any major kingly decisions for the next few hours. Instead, he fucked Inias again and again until the sun had gone down, forcing Inias to get up and light the candles in the room.

 

“I supposed I should get up as well,” Castiel said, reluctantly rolling out of bed. He began dressing himself when Inias placed a hand on the king’s hand.

 

“Let me help,” he said, smiling softly. He helped Castiel into a pair of trousers and a loose shirt. Castiel decided to forgo his cloak in favor of a simple jacket and scarf.

 

“Thank you, Inias,” Castiel said. He pulled the Beta forward into a quick and chaste kiss, smiling into it as he felt the backs of his eyes begin to lose the tingling sensation that came with his red eyes.

 

“May I ask where you are going at such a late time, Your Highness?” Inias asked.

 

Castiel sighed and wrapped an arm around Inias’ waist.

 

“The dungeon, love.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This SHOULD be the last time Castiel acts like the living embodiment of a phallus, but if not I'll just have Anna kick his ass in shape. 
> 
> Keep commenting and shit!


	7. Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want, Gabe?” Castiel asked, dropping his arms and clenching his hands into fists. 
> 
> “Hmm...what do I want?” Gabe said, tapping his chin. 
> 
> “I’m serious, Gabe.”
> 
> “Alright, alright,” Gabe said, smiling. “How about...we make a deal?”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, the first part is a flash-back. Second part is in current time.

_“Why won’t you just tell me where you always run off to during the day, Cassie?” Gabriel asked, trailing behind his younger brother. Castiel clutched his Gaelic to English translator manual tighter to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut as Gabriel continued to bombard him with questions._

__

_“Are you learning how to ride side-saddle like Anna?”_

__

_“Is Father teaching you all the secret areas of the castle?”_

__

_“Are you sleeping with one of Anna's handmaidens?”_

__

_Castiel finally stopped walking, turning around to face Gabriel. He pressed his manual close to his chest, making sure the title was hidden from his brother, and spat out an annoyed, “Leave me alone, Gabriel. I’m not in the mood today.”_

__

_Gabe’s face split into a smile. “So you_ are _sleeping with one of the handmaidens?”_

_Castiel’s lip pulled up in a snarl as he prepared to turn around and run away from his brother. He needed to hide his manual, and the longer he continued talking to Gabe, the sooner his brother would eventually figure him out._

__

_“Or maybe you’re always at those secret Gaelic lessons Father makes you take,” Gabriel said, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest. Castiel froze, the color in his face no doubt draining._

__

_“...what?”_

__

_“Don’t play dumber than usual, Castiel,” Gabriel said. “I know that Father has been having Cousin Balthazar give you lessons in that filthy Irish tongue since you were ten. It’s because he’s preparing you to be king, right? After he dies?”_

__

_“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gabe,” Castiel said, finally turning around and picking up his speed._

__

_“That’s what that manual in your hands is, isn’t it?” Gabe said, catching up to Castiel and plucking the manual out of his arms._

__

_“Hey!” They both stopped as Castiel tried grabbing back the manual from his brother. Gabe maneuvered out of Castiel’s way almost immediately._

_“Mhm. Yup, I knew it,” Gabriel said, opening the manual and flipping through Castiel’s notes and progress. “What the hell does_ that _mean?” He pointed to the word for ‘army’ and looked up with a screwed up face._

_“Give it back, Gabe,” Castiel asked, reaching for the manual again._

__

_“Ah-ah,” Gabe said, shutting the book and holding it up too high for Castiel to reach. “Not so fast. The fun’s just getting started.”_

__

_“What do you want, Gabe?” Castiel asked, dropping his arms and clenching his hands into fists._

__

_“Hmm...what_ do _I want?” Gabe said, tapping his chin._

__

_“I’m serious, Gabe.”_

__

_“Alright, alright,” Gabe said, smiling. “How about...we make a deal?”_

__

_Castiel narrowed his eyes. “A deal?”_

__

_“You know, you do something for me, and I’ll give you something in return,” Gabe said. “In this case, your precious Gaelic manual.”_

_“I don’t need it_ that _bad,” Castiel said through his teeth._

__

_But that was a lie. His Father had told him when he’d first begun the lessons he wouldn’t tolerate Castiel losing his manual. Nor would he tolerate his other siblings finding out. His Father had been extremely clear when he’d told Castiel, “You can’t let your siblings know that I’ve chosen you to succeed me, Castiel.”_

__

_“Oh, stop lying,” Gabe scoffed. “I know that Cousin Balthazar would be livid if you were to lose something like this. And don’t even get me started with how Father would react. It’s the best for you to just accept my offer before I were to_...I don't know,  _drop your manual in my fireplace.”_

__

_Castiel shifted on his feet, digging his fingernails into his palms. He knew he needed the manual, but he also knew how far Gabe’s deals could go. He’d heard repeatedly of the times when servants and handmaidens had been damn near forced to take part in Gabriel’s deals and tricks when the children were younger. He knew well of the incident involving a servant purposely pouring wine on the king’s head in order to keep the fact Gabe knew he’d impregnated one of the queen’s Omega handmaidens a secret._

__

_“Fine. What do I have to do to get back my manual?” Castiel ground out through his teeth._

__

_Gabriel’s face split into a wide grin._

_**  
**“Travel down to visit the dungeons._ Alone.”

* * *

 Castiel stared straight ahead as he was lead down to the dungeons. He knew that the servant leading him, a small Alpha whose name he regrettably did not know, was only aware of the throne room entrance, like most others in the castle. Castiel had, however, specifically asked to go through the sort of backway this time, guiding the Alpha servant the entire way.

“You’re sure this is the correct way, Your Highness?” the Alpha servant asked over his shoulder, glancing back to Castiel with a slightly worried expression on his face.

“Do you doubt me?” Castiel asked, raising his eyebrow. Unlike with an Omega, or even a Beta in some cases, other Alphas were not swayed by Castiel’s Alpha influence. Instead, Castiel used his natural influence as king to force people to act as he wanted. Occasionally.

“N-No! Of course not, Your Highness!” the young Alpha cried, turning away immediately. He didn’t speak after that, and Castiel sensed his discomfort.

“But you feel as though it’s...what? Dangerous, for me to be down here without more protection?” Castiel offered. The Alpha servant didn’t respond, only unlocking the door to the steps leading down to the dungeon. Castiel stepped through first and began his descent down the steps. “Answer me.”

“I know about the Irish prisoner, Your Highness,” the servant muttered, following close to Castiel. The stairway was darker than other places in the castle, making it hard to maneuver for those non-familiar. But Castiel remembered everything about the dungeons. He even remembered the smallish indent in the ground at the foot of the steps from water leaking in the ceiling.

“I see.”

“I know it isn’t my place but...I know about your...relationship with Inias as well, Your Highness,” Daniel said. Castiel turned around to face the Alpha servant, his eyes no doubt flashing at the mention of the Beta servant.

“What does that have to do with the matter?” Castiel asked, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.

“I fear that you’ll act recklessly when left alone with the prisoner, Your Highness,” Daniel said quickly. “And you...don’t need a scandal of that kind, Your Highness.”

“You fear that I’ll not be able to keep myself from attacking the prisoner,” Castiel deadpanned. “Because he’s from Ireland.”

“Because he’s an Omega, Sir,” Daniel said.

“You may leave now, Daniel,” Castiel said, turning and beginning to walk down the hallway to the dungeons on the farthest end.

“Sir?” Castiel ignored the Alpha servant’s confused yell, choosing instead to nearly break into a run to reach the dungeons.

When Castiel came to the second entrance that led deeper into the dungeons, he stopped, preparing to meet up with the main Alpha guard.

“Alistair!” Castiel yelled, standing back from the door. “Alistair, open this door right now.”

Locks grinded together as they were moved, and the door slowly opened to reveal the guard. He sat on the ground, casually cleaning his sword while he looked up to meet the king’s eyes. He smiled devilishly, setting aside the blade as Castiel began walking forward.

“Ah, Your Highness!” Alistair said, standing. He rushed forward, hand outstretched to shake Castiel’s. Even while they were both Alphas, meaning they could not smell each other’s scents, Castiel’s nose wrinkled at the stench that drifted off of Alistair reached him. Simply put, he reeked of blood, dirt, and the faintest scent of—

“I am here to visit the Irish prisoner,” Castiel said, shaking Alistairs hand and immediately wiping it on the side of his robes.

“Oh, yes, yes,” Alistair said, nodding and winking. “ _Visit_.”

“Just take me to him, Alistair,” Castiel said, face falling flat.

 **  
**“Of course, _of course_ , Your Highness,” Alistair said, turning and clapping his hands together. “Right this way.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THAT I'M THE SHITTIEST WRITER IN THE HISTORY OF EXISTENCE. I DIDN'T MEAN FOR THIS CHAPTER TO BE DELAYED SO LONG. But school is a bitch, and everything sucks. Also, my phone was stolen by awful school people, so there's....that. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up soon. 
> 
> Comment, 'cause it makes me warm and fuzzy on the inside, and I'll reply to the ones that make me the warmest. :3


	8. Apology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “My, you’ve certainly learned all the useful phrases in the Irish language,” the prisoner said, laughing quietly. “I wonder how you’d sound growling that in my ear while you fucked me over that monstrosity of a throne you have.”
> 
>  
> 
> (IT'S SHORT. I FUCKING KNOW)

The cells deepest in the dungeon were the worst of all the others. Water dripped from the ceiling much more frequently, making the ground uneven and leaving behind the ever constant scent of mold and mildew. There weren’t many torches along the walls, making it dimmer and colder than anywhere else in the castle. Castiel’s nose wrinkled as he caught the stale scent of Apha arousal and Omega slick.

“You’ve certainly let this place go,” Castiel observed, staring at the back of Alistair’s head as the Alpha guard led him down to the cells. Alistair practically skipped in front of Castiel, twirling his set of keys around on his index finger, and chuckled at Castiel’s remark.

“There are benefits of being the only Alpha in your prison guard, Your Highness,” Alistair said over his shoulder. “No one else is brave enough to come down by these cells, so pardon if I’ve taken a bit of creative freedom.”

They were just passing the last empty cell when Castiel suddenly stopped.

_Shit_. There it was—Omega scent layered thickly in the air with what was clearly fresh Alpha arousal. _The_ Omega’s scent. Mixed with what Castiel could identify as _Alistair’s_ Alpha arousal.

_I’ll kill him_ , Castiel growled at the back of his mind. His Alpha side strained forward, wanting nothing more than to snap the cocky bastard’s neck or rip out his throat or strangle him for daring to touch his Omega.

_But he isn’t my Omega_ , Castiel reminded himself. _He’s a dirty piece of Irish filth responsible for killing your men_. The tingling at the back of his eyes died down as he forced himself to continue following Alistair.

“And heeeeeere we are!” Alistair said a little too happily and a little too loudly. He jangled the keys in front of the cell he and Castiel had stopped in front of, shaking them either to annoy Castiel or alert the prisoner in the cell in front of them. “Wakey, wakey, Irishman!”

The prisoner stirred where he lay on the floor, his hands coming up to cover his ears. Castiel dug his fingernails into his palm to keep his eyes from shifting colors as he inhaled the Omega’s scent.

“The king is here to speak with you,” Alistair said. “It would be in your better interest to act like you have some sense of manners.”

“Thank you, Alistair,” Castiel said, his voice slightly strained. “I can take it from here.”

Alistair turned to face the king, his eyebrows drawn, but he quickly dismissed Castiel’s abrupt dismissal of him. He handed Castiel the keys, explaining in a low voice which one opened the prisoner’s cell and winking as if to suggest that the king may use the key.

“I will be at the end of these cells, in case you are to need anything, Your Highness,”  Alistair said, bowing unnecessarily low to the ground and sweeping his arm. Castiel swore he could hear him laughing to himself as he completed the gesture.

“Thank you,” Castiel said. He turned towards the cell as Alistair sauntered away. As he did, he heard something between a sigh and a chuckle.

“So you’ve...come to visit to poor piece of Irish shit that you’ve left to rot in here,” the prisoner said, uncovering his ears and pushing himself to a sitting position. Castiel saw how hard his arms shook under the weight of the Omega’s body, as well as the tremors that seemed to go through his entire body. The prisoner laughed dryly. “I’d say you’re developing a soft spot for me.”

“I don’t remember ever giving you permission to speak to me,” Castiel said, surprised at how flat he was able to make his voice considering he felt like tearing off the door to the cell to get to the Omega on the other side.

“ _You_ came to _me_ ,” the prisoner said, sitting back against the far wall of his cell. Castiel’s eyes flicked down to look at where he’d been lying curled up on the ground and he noticed the few stains of blood on the hay covering the ground. “Technically, that means I should be giving you permission when and when not to fucking speak to me.”

“How dare you speak that way to a—” Castiel began angrily. He wasn’t really _angry_ , per se: just shocked that even as king, he could be surprised by the actions of the Irish.

“Save it,” the prisoner said, raising a hand. Castiel’s mouth snapped shut, even though he could have easily called on Alistair in a moment’s notice. “Are you going to tell me why exactly you risked coming down here for a simple chat? Or am I to assume it’s for something more traditional.”

“You mean sex,” Castiel deadpanned. The mere mention of it had Castiel blushing. He was suddenly glad for how dark it was in the dungeons.

The prisoner rolled his eyes, then smiled sarcastically. “Yes, I mean sex. It’s obvious you can smell that I’m going into heat, yes?”

“I assumed that was how all filthy Irish whores smelled.”

“My, you’ve certainly learned all the useful phrases in the Irish language,” the prisoner said, laughing quietly. “I wonder how you’d sound growling that in my ear while you fucked me over that monstrosity of a throne you have.”

Castiel felt every last bit of blood in his face, hands, and toes rush to his crotch so quickly he went dizzy and nearly fainted. He fell forward, catching himself with the bars of the cell and breathing slowly to clear his head. It didn’t help that everything around him smelled of Omega or that the prisoner was now laughing out loudly.

“You Alphas are all the same,” the prisoner said, leaning forward from his sitting position onto all-fours. He began slowly crawling forward, swaying his hips as he came forward to the bars of the cell. “You act all high and mighty just because you have a knot, but once an Omega goes into heat, you lose all composure.” The prisoner was at the cell bars now, still on all-fours and looking up at Castiel, a faint smirk on his face. “It’s actually kind of _pathetic_ really.”

“I came to apologize for sending you to the gallows,” Castiel managed to pant out. “I realize that it was irrational and I wasn’t thinking clearly when I gave you the punishment. Will you accept my apology?”

The prisoner was silent. Castiel looked away from his eyes, mostly to hide the fact his eyes were slowly shifting to red. Something shifted, and when Castiel looked back, the prisoner had risen up to his knees and his eyes were bright gold.

“Hm, no,” he said, smiling. "I won't."

Castiel swallowed. It was frankly unfair how much of an effect the Omega had on Castiel, considering he’d only ever spoken to him angrily.

“But, I will accept it if you take that knot of yours and use it to _fuck me_.” The prisoner said the last bit in English, just barely a whisper while he reached through the cell bars to rub his palm against Castiel’s crotch.

And before he realized what he was doing, Castiel had undone the lock on the cell door and tackled the Omega down to the ground, grinding his crotch against the prisoner’s, too far gone to care.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things:
> 
> 1\. I actually really like Ireland and Irish people. So, like, don't think I hate them because of this fic. (Gehen wir nach Irland?)
> 
> 2\. There are never enough prostitute!dean/omega!dean fanfics in this world. I will be contributing some in the near future, so yeah. 
> 
> 3\. IF YOU WANT ME TO WRITE LIKE A ONE-SHOT THING WITH A SHIP OF YOUR CHOICE, PUT IT IN THE COMMENTS. I WILL LITERALLY WHORE OUT MY WRITING ABILITIES. 
> 
> 4\. Comment and shit, because that stuff makes me happy.


	9. What Do You Need

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What do you want?” Castiel asked, voice dropping to an even lower rasp as the hand under Dean’s prisondress slipped down to the waist of his trousers. “What do you need, little Omega?”
> 
> "Knot me..." Dean practically gasped out in Gaelic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pornish Porn Porn.

_Warm_.

Dean sighed as the weight of the Alpha fell on top of him, pinning his body to the hay-covered ground. He was acutely aware of the Alpha king's hands dragging up the sides of Dean's body, reaching up to grab the Omega's wrists to hold him in place.

_Hot_.

"You ever plan on telling me your name?" Dean asked, speaking English to the king rather than Gaelic. He watched the king’s pupils dilate as he lifted up off of Dean, titling his head to one side. Despite how red his eyes were, Dean couldn’t help noticing how much he looked like a small child.

“You...you speak English?” the king asked, his hands tightening around Dean’s wrists as the red in his eyes grew brighter. The strange accent when he spoke Gaelic was gone, replaced by the normal posh accent common of the British. “Have you always spoken English?”

“Why do you care?” Dean asked, lifting his chin and turning his head slightly to expose his neck to the king. He glanced up at the king, smirking as he watched the Alpha’s nostril flare. He’d obviously caught Dean’s heatscent drifting up from the spot behind his ear, and that in itself was enough make Dean start leaking slick. “If it has nothing to do with you shoving your thick knot in me, _I don’t care_.”

Dean struggled against the Alpha’s grip on his wrists, pressing up so his and the king’s crotches were pressed together again. The Alpha’s eyes shut as he fell forward, pressing his lips to Dean’s.

_Slick_.

The king moved away from Dean’s mouth, kissing and scenting along the side of his face until he reached Dean’s ear.

_Warm_.

“Castiel,” the Alpha whispered. His breath ghosted over Dean’s ear, making him shiver. “My name is Castiel Milton.” Dean moaned as he felt the king release one of his wrists, reaching down to grip one of Dean’s hips.

“D-Dean,” he stuttered. “M-My...name is Dean.” His freed hand clutched at the ground as he felt the king, Castiel, slide his hand down to reach beneath his prisondress. His warm fingers ran over the cold skin of Dean’s stomach.

“ _Mmmm_ …” Castiel muttered. Dean jumped as he felt the Alpha lick behind his ear, sending a sudden shock through Dean’s body as he leaked more and more slick. “You’re so cold, Omega.”

“ _Please_ ,” Dean rasped. Castiel released Dean’s other wrist, moving it to grasp the side of the Omega’s face. Castiel pushed himself up, supporting himself on his elbow, and looking down into Dean’s eyes. This close, Dean could see that the king’s eyes had the slightest tint of blue in them. The blue that had looked so beautiful when Dean had kneeled in that tacky throne room, looking up at the Alpha much like he was now. “ _Please_ …”

“What do you want?” Castiel asked, voice dropping to an even lower rasp as the hand under Dean’s prisondress slipped down to the waist of his trousers. “What do you need, Omega?”

_“Knot me_ …” Dean practically gasped out in Gaelic. “Knot me, fill me up, stop this _burning_. _Please_ , Alpha.”

_Burn_.

Castiel released Dean’s face, gripping onto the Omega’s thin hips, and flipped him over underneath him. Dean didn’t pay mind to the fact he was now lying stomach-down in a practical pool of his own slick—he only noticed Castiel’s erection pressed against his backside as the king’s lips pressed against the back of his neck.

“You’re so...beautiful,” Castiel muttered. “So perfect.”

Dean flexed his hands, clutching helplessly at the hay on the ground as Castiel began pulling down his trousers. The fabric of his trousers were sticky, practically soaked through with slick, and Dean knew Castiel’s eyes had probably dilated to the point where only a ring of red remained.

Castiel pushed up the back of Dean’s prisondress until it reached his armpits, placing a kiss to the back of Dean’s neck as he writhed on the ground in pleasure.

“Please... _Alpha_ …” Dean moaned, pushing his ass up into the Alpha above him.

“ _Dean…_ ”

_Warm._

__

_Hot._

__

_Slick._

__

_Fuck._

__

_Knot._

__

_Mate._

__

And just as Dean felt Castiel place his hands against his lower back, it was gone. The warmth—the heat—the hands. All of it.

_Gone_.

Dean rolled onto his back, searching frantically for Castiel—for his _Alpha_. He looked up, uncaring that he was completely exposed, and met the red eyes of—

“ _Release me_ , Alistair,” Castiel growled in English. His eyes were still bright red as he fought against the Alpha guard’s arms around him. He looked downright feral, slashing at the guard’s arms with and bucking up against him. “Alistair, as your king, _I order you to let me go_.”

“And let you soil your reputation as king by knotting some Irish prison whore?” Alistair asked, looking over Castiel’s thrashing shoulder to meet Dean’s eyes. He smirked, practically laughing as Dean began breathing heavily. “Not to mention an Irish whore in _heat_?”

“ _Let_. _Me_. _Go_ ,” Castiel barked, throwing his head back into Alistair’s face. It did nothing, as Alistair dodged it, laughing. He turned them both and started walking forward, forcing Castiel towards the door at the very end of the cell.

“No!” Dean shouted. He tried to get onto his hands and knees, tried to stand and follow the Alphas. He wanted to follow them, but he was too hot. Too warm. Too out of it for him to do anything more than fall on his back and stare up at the ceiling.

“It appears the king let himself go in a moment of weakness, my dear Omega,” Alistair’s voice said. Dean didn’t try raising his head as he heard the bars of his cell close. He didn’t even raise his head as he sensed Alistair kneeling on top of him. “Became...entranced by the promiscuity of an Omega in heat. He’s never been near one, you know?”

“He’ll kill you,” Dean whispered, turning his head to the side. He hissed then swallowed hard as one of Alistair’s hands pressed against his limp cock.

“What was that? Didn’t hear you too well, beautiful,” Alistair said mockingly.

Dean grit his teeth and turned his face to meet Alistair’s sneering one. “I said,” Dean growled. “He’ll kill you for doing that. For taking him away.” Dean would’ve tried to fight the Alpha if not for the fact the heady scent of arousal scrambled his thoughts. “Or better yet, _I will_.”

Alistair grinned as he squeezed Dean’s cock in his hand. Dean cried out, snapping his eyes shut in pain, and shook his head when Alistair laughed.

“Oh yes, the brave Omega from bloody Ireland will be the one who shall slice open my stomach, or strangle my neck,” Alistair giggled, beginning to stroke Dean. As he did, Dean felt himself leak a fresh flow of slick, no matter how disgusted he felt. “Perhaps, you’d rather hold my head beneath the water of my bath after I bend you over a desk and knot you.” Alistair titled his head, grinning as short pants and gasps began slipping out of Dean.

“Please...stop…” Dean panted.

“This was how the king did it, yes?” Alistair asked. “He treated you like his _lover_ , making sure you felt as good as he did. You weren’t just a hole in desperate need of filling.”

“Ple—”

“You know what to do,” Alistair said, releasing Dean and pushing up off the ground. “ _Present_ for me.”

And Dean did. He turned over, whole body shaking as tears dripped down from his eyes.

 **  
**_Shit. Not again with the crying._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaat? I'm a week late on an update?? Shocking. Simply shocking. 
> 
> I was watching American Horror Story while I was writing this. 
> 
> Next update should be up soon, as recompense for missing an update. 
> 
> Keep commenting. Keep submitting prompts. Keep kudosing. Keep...on keepin' on.


	10. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I-I came to find you, SIr."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I'M A WEEK LATE. It's been a constant thing. I think I'm going to play it safe and just say I'll upload every OTHER Friday (or Saturday. Most likely Saturday), if I haven't say that already. 
> 
> Also, since I've been taking prompts (and taking fucking forever to write them), I'll upload any prompts on the non-Can Be Held Against You uploading days. 
> 
> Comment. Kudos. Send me prompts.

Castiel threw himself against the door leading down to deeper parts of the dungeon. He growled, practically clawing at the door as he sniffed fervently for the scent of his Omega. He couldn't pick it out from the overpowering scents of blood and sweat and stagnant water even with his rut-heightened sense of smell.

" _Alistair!_ " Castiel shouted, pounding his fists against the door. The wood shuttered, splinters appearing where Castiel's hit hard enough. "Alistair, _open this door_. _Let me in right now!_ "

"Y-Your Highness?"

Castiel whipped around, eyes burning bright red and lips pulled back in a snarl. It took him a second to find Samandriel standing a little away, eyes widened in fright. Castiel felt his anger drain out of him slowly as the Beta came closer tentatively.

"Samandriel..." Castiel said, shoulders slumping forward. "What are you doing down here?"

"I-I came to find you, Sir," Samandriel whispered. "Y-You weren't in your room, and almost n-none of the other servants had seen you since you left the throne room. Daniel was the only one who had any idea where you were."

"I see," Castiel said, willing the heightened Alpha inside of him to relax as he leaned against one of the walls in the hallway where they stood. He pressed a hand to his forehead and began rubbing back and forth to clear his headache. "And for what reason were you looking for me?"

Samandriel visibly hesitated, biting his lip and beginning to wring his hands.

"Samandriel," Castiel said more firmly. He rushed forward and grabbed Samandriel’s shoulders, not noticing how the Beta winced when Castiel’s fingers dug into his shoulders. “Samandriel, what is it? You can tell me.”

Samandriel exhaled, meeting the king’s eyes, which were no doubt still burning red, and spoke slowly. “There have been rumors...different kinds. A-And one of them suggests that the Irish prisoner is an…” Samandriel paused, his face flushing bright red. When he spoke, he sounded embarrassed. “That he is an Omega, Sir.”

Castiel released the Beta’s shoulders. He dropped his hands to his sides and clutched them into fists. “What kind of rumors?”

“Excuse my asking, Sir, but could we possibly…leave, and retire back to the throne room?” Samandriel’s flush had died down, but he still wrung his hands nervously. “As your attendant, I’d feel safer if you were away from these criminals.”

Castiel’s fingernails dug into his palm as Samandriel turned to lead the two of them up the stairs. _Not_ my _Omega. Not Dean_ , he thought to himself, following Samandriel up the stairs that led back up into the throne room.

“Alright, we’ve left the dungeon,” Castiel said suddenly while he and Samandriel continued to climb up the stairs. “Now tell me what rumors there have been.”

Samandriel sighed.

“To name one in particular, there is rumor that you have been sleeping with one of the servants.”

Castiel nearly scoffed. “There’s always been rumors of the Alpha Milton king sleeping around amongst the servants of the castle. Hardly a rumor.”

“And there have been rumors that it’s...Inias, one of your helping servants, Your Highness.” Castiel could have sworn he heard the slightest bit of jealousy in Samandriel’s voice when he mentioned Inias’ name.

“Well there’s no need for there to be anymore speculation,” Castiel said. “I have been carrying out a secret relationship with Inias for nearly two years now. I’m not sure why it seems so scandalous.”

“You have yet to take a wife as queen or male Omega as a mate, Your Highness, and it’s begun to worry members of your court as well as many of the kingdom’s people,” Samandriel said. He pushed open the door to the throne room and let Castiel walk ahead of him. “They’re furious that you’d rather sleep around with a Beta when the kingdom is in need of an heir.”

“Since when did it fall upon me to serve the wants of those in my _court?_ ” Castiel asked, turning to face Samandriel. His heat-induced rut had finally died down, the tingling in his eyes had even subsided, but Castiel still had the picture of Dean’s shining green and gold eyes in his mind. “I have not been king for very long, but I have much bigger worries than finding a mate.”

“Excuse me if this is inappropriate, Your Highness, but you must make the needs of the kingdom foremost in your life,” Samandriel said, almost snarled. “That is how your father acted, that is how your grandfather acted, that is—”

“My father and grandfather were both in loveless relationships until the deaths of the Omegas that gave birth to their children,” Castiel barked in response. “I only wish to have choice in whomever I mate or marry, unlike every other member of my family as far back as I can remember.”

Samandriel seemed to be breathing heavily, his cheeks red from speaking so much, and he almost immediately shrank in size. He dropped his head and crossed his arms in front of him.

“I...I’m sorry, Your Highness,” the Beta said, his voice having dropped back down to its normally soft-spokenness. “I have spoken out of turn. Forgive me.”

Castiel sighed and rubbed at his forehead again. His headache was back, full force and making it difficult for him to think clearly. He knew it would only make sense to forgive Samandriel, seeing as he was only voicing his opinion and that Castiel worked to maintain his image as a “good” king.

“You’re...you’re forgiven, Samandriel,” Castiel said, rubbing his hands over his face. “And I apologize for acting so cross with you myself. I guess I’m a tad...overwhelmed, by everything that has been happening of late.”

Samandriel nodded, lifting his head and managing a small smile.

“I can take you back to your room, if you so desire, Your Highness,” Samandriel said, taking a step forward.

Castiel shook his head. “No...no, that’s alright, you don’t have to do that,” Castiel muttered. He shook his head again and met Samandriel’s eyes. “You are dismissed.”

Samandriel’s smile dropped, but he still bowed quickly and turned to leave the throne room. As he did, Castiel looked over at his throne, which didn’t have the light from outside to illuminated its jewels. In the dark, the throne didn’t look nearly as magnificent, nor did it look as humorously large. It looked normal, tasteful even.

 **  
** _Perhaps I’ll have all the jewels removed from it..._ Castiel thought to himself before turning and leaving the throne room. As he left, the tingle at the backs of his eyes subsided and he knew they had finally shifted back to their natural blue. **  
**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short. This is rather...short, I'm aware.


	11. Not Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nice hair," Castiel remarked.
> 
> Anna struck a pose. "I'm trying out a new style," she said, shaking her head to loosen a few more strands that fell down around her face. "I'm positive it'll absolutely take off with the women in the kingdom."

Castiel woke up the next morning to a splitting headache and loud knocking on his door. He rolled over, blinking and wincing in the light streaming in his window, and called out, “What? Shut up, stop knocking and just come in already.”

Inias pushed open the door to Castiel’s room, his face relaxing when he saw the king tangled up in his bedsheets and sporting a vicious behead. “I thought you had drunken yourself to death, Your Highness,” he said, smiling at Castiel’s groan of pain. When Castiel glared at him, he let out a soft almost-giggle.

“You’re speaking too loud,” Castiel mumbled. “It’s making my headache even worse.”

“Apologies, Sire,” Inias said, bowing as Castiel sat up.

“Oh, stop that,” Castiel said, sounding disgusted. “You don’t have to be so formal, Inias. I sleep with you on a regular basis, for the love of God.”

Inias stood up and went to help Castiel sit up in bed. “I just figured...with the rumors circulating the castle…” Inias mumbled, moving to begin straightening up Castiel’s bed. “Maybe it was how informal I act when I’m around you that’s made everyone take notice.”

“I’m informal with how I act to all of those in my court,” Castiel protested. “If anything, everyone would be suspicious if I suddenly insisted you referred to me as my full title." Castiel smiled as he thought of memories from his coronation, when he'd had to kneel on the ground for nearly five minutes as his new title was read out to all those in his kingdom.

 

Inias smiled too. "I remember that day," he said, stripping down the sheets on Castiel's bed. He bundled them up into a ball and carried them towards the door. "I was still working in the kitchens and we were only given the day off because of your coronation. I was practically weeping with boredom by the time the speaker was halfway through announcing your title." Inias pushed open the door and dropped the sheets outside in the hallway. He turned back to face Castiel, shutting the door behind him. In his hands was a new folded set of sheets to be put on the king's bed. 

 

"What was wrong with my old sheets?" Castiel asked, looking up at Inias as he came to the edge of the king's bed. "I quite liked them."

 

"They were covered in vomit, Sir," Inias said. "I presume from your over drinking of wine last night."

 

Castiel's face screwed up at Inias' words. "What're you talking about?"

 

"When you returned from the dungeons last night, Sir, you demanded I bring you two extra jugs of wine," Inias said. He set the fresh set of sheets on the end of Castiel's bed, then walked over to where Castiel sat on the bed. He held out his hands for the king to take. "When I brought them to you, I had to water them down so you wouldn't die in your sleep."

 

"You watered down my wine, Inias?" Castiel asked, taking the Beta's hands. He smirked up at the other man, then almost immediately groaned as the pounding in his head grew worse. "Son of a bitch."

 

Inias looked down at his and Castiel's hands. He sighed then looked back up at the king's face. "Would you like to have a meal prepared to help your headache, Sir?" Castiel shook his head and began pulling Inias closer. When Inias stood between Castiel's legs, he released his hands and reached up to grip the Beta's hips. He kneaded his thumbs into the skin of Inias' hips and looked up at Inias' face. 

 

"No...I'd like to shove my knot in your ass," Castiel said, pressing his face against Inias' chest and reaching down to grab his ass. He inhaled deeply, and shivered when Inias let out a soft moan. Castiel let out a soft growl as Inias' hands tangled in his hair. His fingers tightened and tilted the king's head back. His pupils were dilated, and Castiel could feel his hardening bulge against his chest from how close they were.

 

"You have to get up, Your Highness," Inias said. He was softly panting, and Castiel smirked. "You'll never get over all of that wine if you stay in bed all day."

 

"But I'll be exercising," Castiel protested, squeezing the globes of Inias' ass. The Beta winced and moaned, but still shook his head.

 

" _Up_ , Sir," Inias said, untangling his fingers from Castiel's hair and reaching behind him to pull the king's hands off of his ass. Castiel stuck out his bottom lip as Inias forced him to stand. The Beta helped him into his bathroom, where the buckets used to fill his tub sat empty on the floor. Inias rang a bell to alert another servant to bring up filled buckets and left Castiel standing in the bathroom, swaying slightly from his headache. 

 

Castiel walked over to the slab of mirror on his wall and inspected himself. He shuddered at the sight of his pale skin and bloodshot eyes. His irises were slightly purple, slowly shifting back to their normal blue. He laughed as he realized they'd probably begun shifting when he'd begun groping all over Inias. 

 

Castiel rubbed his hands over his face and turned to face the tub. As he stared at it, he thought of the times he'd sat soaking in the water and imagined sinking below the surface and drowning himself. It'd be easy: no one kept watch over him in the bathroom when he bathed anymore, and he'd nearly drowned so many times in his life he probably wouldn't react as water began filling his lungs. Whenever he thought of drowning, there was always a split second when he'd sink a little lower in the water until it lapped at his cheekbones. 

 

And he'd just sit there. Contemplating.

 

He always went underneath the water to wet himself completely but came back up, yelling for Inias to bring him a towel. He knew he'd never be able to go through with killing himself in anyway. There's no way Anna would be allowed to take over as Queen, and no one had heard from his older brothers in near six years. He needed to stay alive because his people needed him.

 

 _Anna_. Castiel sighed when he thought of his sister, who was technically only his half-sister.

 

He'd been around ten when he'd found out about his father's affair. It had been with one of Castiel's mother's servants shortly before she'd died, and the news spread almost immediately when Anna was told to have presented as a Beta. It was impossible for the child of an Alpha male and Omega female, like his father and mother had been, to present as anything other than an Alpha or Omega. When it was announced that Anna had presented a Beta, those within the kingdom who disliked Castiel's family investigated, only to find that the king had in fact slept around. It had been with a young Omega boy who was working off his father's tax debts. When it was discovered that he'd slept with Castiel's father, the boy was exiled by members of the court who were still loyal to Castiel's mother. A few months later, it was told that the young boy had been found dead on the side of the road in Wales, his throat slit and castrated. No one told Anna that the boy was dead until she was 17, not long after Castiel had taken the throne, and it had been Castiel's decision to tell her. If anything, it made her and Castiel closer, considering the shit they would now to deal with as the only acknowledged children of their father. 

 

Castiel went to sit next to the tub and began tapping his fingers against the floor, leaning his head back to rest against the cold marble of the tub. 

 

"When aren't you sleeping?"

 

Castiel opened his eyes and looked up to see Anna standing in the doorway. She had a bucket crawled against her side and resting on her hip and a smirk on her face. Her fiery red hair was piled on top of her hair in a sloppy bun, a style that was customary with the long-haired Irish warriors during battle.

 

"Nice hair," Castiel remarked. 

 

Anna struck a pose. "I'm trying out a new style," she said, shaking her head to loosen a few more strands that fell down around her face. "I'm positive it'll absolutely take off with the women in the kingdom." 

 

Castle's face screwed up. "I doubt women in this kingdom would adopt a hairstyle used by the Irish," Castiel said, pulling his knees towards his chest. Anna shook her head again, loosening a few more strands, and set the bucket on the ground. Some of the water splashed out onto the floor as Anna came toward Castiel and sat down beside him. 

 

"I'm the bloody  _princess_ ," Anna said. "It's my job to set trends for the women of the kingdom." Anna reached up to tug at her bun as Castiel rubbed at his face.

 

"Where's Inias?"

 

"Oh, you mean your fuck buddy?" Anna asked, looking over at Castiel and letting her hair fall down around her face. She really did look like Castiel's mom—she'd had red hair too and often wore it down around her face. The only time she wore it up was when she was going to bed. Castiel remembered when she would lean down to kiss his forehead and the shorter strands over her hair would tickle his nose. He also remembered watching the servants tie up his mother's hair while she lay in bed, dying. It had been one of the last times Castiel had seen his mother smiling at him. 

 

"He's just my servant," Castiel said.

 

"As well as your fuck buddy," Anna said, laughing when Castiel scoffed and rolled his eyes. "What? You know it's true."

 

"Only on occasion," Castiel muttered.

 

Anna threw her head forward and twisted her hair up into a tighter bun. As she sat back upright, she said, "Honestly, Castiel. There have been times that I've honestly had to cover my ears multiple times a day when I walk past your room."

 

"I'm not the first king to sleep around with servants," Castiel said, running his hands through his hair. Some of the shorter pieces stuck almost straight up while the longer pieces remained in place. "And I'm pretty certain I won't be the last."

 

Anna was silent.

 

"Do you ever think about Father?" she asked. She was tracing a pattern on the floor of the bathroom, something that looked like a very basic version of the English flag's symbol. "Or...your mother?"

 

"Of course I do," Castiel said. "Do you...ever think about—?"

 

"Bartholomew," Anna interrupted. "My birth father. Or mother. Or whatever the hell you want to call him." She pulled her knees to her chest and placed her chin on her knees. She sighed. "Yeah...sometimes. Whenever I'm upset...or drunk...or angry...I imagine what it must have been like to have an actual mom who would take care of you and all that shit..." Anna shrugged. "I don't know. I never really got to know the guy before they found him dead..."

 

"I get what you mean," Castiel said.

 

The two were silent.

 

"Your bath water is getting cold," Anna said, stretching out her legs and standing up. Castiel noticed that she was not wearing a dress, but rather a pair of riding trousers like a man. 

 

"You're wearing trousers?" Castiel said. It was phrased more like a question than a statement.

 

"I've just come from riding practice, Castiel," she said, stretching. "Don't act like you've never seen a woman's legs outside of a dress before. Though I suppose there is a chance you probably haven't."

 

" _Anael_ ," Castiel said in a mock warning tone. Anna stuck out her tongue at Castiel as she practically skipped out of the room. She stopped in the doorway, then turned to face Castiel. She smirked, and Castiel swore he saw her eyes flash red again.

 

"I heard you went down to apologize to the Irish prisoner," she said, tilting her head to one side. "I also heard from Samandriel that you'd basically gone into a rut when he found you down there. Banging on the door, yelling, growling, red eye—"

 

Castle's face began burning. "You can leave now, Anna."

 

Anna giggled and slipped out of the doorway. Castiel heard the door to his room shut, and he didn't care enough to check whether or not she'd actually left.

 

Castiel stood up and went to grab the bucket of cooling bath water. Next to them were four other buckets, probably brought in by other servants while Castiel and Anna had been talking. He lifted the first bucket and poured it into the tub. He followed with the other four buckets, filling the tub almost right to the edge. Castiel stripped down naked, leaving his clothes in a pile near the door, and slowly climbed into the tub. Water splashed over the edge of the tub and onto the floor, but Castiel didn't care. He leaned his head back on edge of the tub and shivered despite the heat of the water. 

 

_I could just slide down..._

 

Castiel shut his eyes and began slowly sinking lower into the water. He stopped, his eyes just above the water line, and opened his eyes. He'd stopped breathing the moment he sunk beneath the water and if he held his breath for a minute more, his chest would feel like it was on fire and being compressed. It'd be a painful way to die, that was a definite, but not an uncommon way. His great grandfather had died that way; so had one of his aunts. It was becoming a family tradition. 

 

Castiel shook his head and raised himself up from the water. 

 

_Not today. Not for a while._

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I don't know what's going on with this fic right now. I'll try updating again this week, or I might update Scarves.
> 
> Or I might write a super short Destiel Christmas fic. Idk. Say what you'd like in the comments. 
> 
>  
> 
> Like it? Leave kudos.
> 
> LOVE it? Leave a comment.


	12. Your King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Have you been drinking wine, Dean?" Castiel asked, taking a step toward the bars of Dean's cell. His eyebrows came together when Dean burst out laughing. 
> 
> "My, you aren't the smartest king the English have ever had, are you?" Dean asked. He laid himself down on the ground of his cell, propping his head up using his elbows and hands. He tilted his head to the right and smiled. "Of course I have. When your guards just leave it in arms reach, it's not too difficult for me to get my hands on it." To make his point, he reached over and grabbed the jug of wine, taking a quick swig.

It was two weeks before Castiel was able to return to the dungeon.

 

It wasn't that he didn't  _want_ to return—if anything, he would've actually preferred returning to the dungeon's darkness and dankness rather than living the life he'd had for the last two weeks.

 

To be short, Castiel's life had been literal hell—Reports had come in from one of the border cities near Scotland that there had been an attack by Irish troops. The mayor ruling that city, a Beta named Ansem Weems according to what the repots had read, had been assassinated and the city overrun with Irish troops. Then, almost immediately after Castiel had begun preparing his army to travel up to the city, another report had come in from Wales of almost the exact same occurrence. Castiel had spent two weeks staying up late and getting up early to argue with the commanders of his army, trying to convince them to recruit more men and women so they would be able to send out a counterattack before another city was taken. All of his arguing had worked to almost no avail, and only when Castiel promised to provide better living conditions to those who returned from battle did the commanders finally agree. Castiel had taken his anger at his commanders out with Inias every night, pounding the Beta into his mattress.

 

Still, even while he was balls deep in Inias' ass, Castiel imagined the Irish Omega— _Dean_. He imagined the Omega's green eyes, the irises mixed with gold. He imagined the Omega's face flushed as Castiel mouthed all over his neck, his hands grabbling at the Alpha's back and digging in hard. Castiel saw Dean when he looked down at Inias' face, and it only made Castiel try even harder to breed him properly. Every time he did, Inias would quietly ask him to stop, sounding breathless as Castiel stuttered to a stop and muttered an apology. 

 

Now, since the King's Army had been deployed to take care of the Irish menace Scotland and Wales, Castiel was finally able to relax. He slept for nearly an entire day after the first troops were sent out, and only woke when a tray of food was brought into his room by another one of his servants. Castiel didn't know the boy's name, and when he asked where Inias was, the boy simply replied, "Princess Anael requested that I bring your food to you, Your Highness." 

 

Castiel didn't ask anymore questions, and instead sat cross-legged on his bed to eat his meal. It wasn't much; only a loaf of bread and slab of meat that tasted a tad too salty. There was a small cup of water on the tray that Castiel downed in practically one sip. When he'd finished his meal, Castiel stretched on his bed and considered returning to sleep. Then, he suddenly saw the Omega in his mind's eye. 

 

 _I should visit him_ , he thought to himself, sitting up. Castiel ran fingers through his hair, forcing it to stick up in every direction.  _Since I'm not exactly doing anything right now_. 

 

Castiel nodded to himself as he began to dress himself. He pulled on a hooded cloak that he normally reserved for rides through his kingdom and prepared to leave his room. He needed to be careful this time around—the rumors surrounding him and Inias had begun to die down during the craziness with the Irish attacks, but he knew that there were still those in his court that would gladly begin new rumors if Castiel was caught returning to the dungeon after his first visit. There was no doubt that next to everyone in the castle knew that the prisoner was an Omega, and everyone knew that Castiel still had no mate or wife. Even the dumbest person could put two and two together. 

 

Castiel threw the hood over his head and shut his door quietly. Thankfully, the guards that normally remained in the hallways had been moved outside of the castle, so Castiel was able to move throughout the castle to the throne room with little distractions. Whenever he saw a servant, he simply told them he was going to the stables for a ride, declining any assistance. When he finally reached the throne room, Castiel threw off his hood and climbed the steps to his throne. He rubbed a hand over one of the armrests and felt for the latch on the side. When his fingers touched it, Castiel lifted the latch and pulled out the extra key to the dungeon he'd been given. He grabbed the string the key was on and Castiel quickly ran back to the dungeon door. He carefully unlocked the door and slipped inside the door, locking it back and slipping the key around his neck. 

 

The steps leading down to the dungeon weren't lit, so Castiel had to feel his way downstairs with his hand against the wall. When his foot hit the bottom step, Castiel was glad to be back in the light of torches by the doors leading toward Dean's cell.

 

 _Dean_. Castiel's nostrils flared as he scented Dean above every other smell in the dungeon. He looked toward the door separating him and Dean and managed to walk up calmly. He knocked lightly on the door once with his knuckles and called out, "Alistair? Let me in."

 

There was no response, and Castiel knocked harder, this time practically yelling, "Alistair, this is your King, I demand you  _open this door right_ —" _  
_

The door flung open. Alistair stood in the doorway, his trousers only partially pulled up his legs and his uniform top askew. Castiel suddenly caught scent of Dean  _on Alistair._ Castiel had to suppress a growl as Alistair's face broke into a cocky smirk. 

 

"Right this way,  _Your Highness_ ," Alistair said, turning as he began pulling up his trousers and readjusting his top. Castiel followed behind Alistair, crossing his arms and digging his fingers into the skin of his arms. It angered him that he could smell Dean so fragrantly on Alistair, and that the son-of-a-bitch Alpha smelled _only_ like slick and sweat and sex. He walked confidently, casually speaking with Castiel.

 

"May I ask what has brought you here again, Your Highness?" Alistair asked. Castiel didn't answer. Alistair chuckled. "Oh come on now, humor me. Answer my question, Your Highness."

 

Castiel gritted his teeth together. "You know why I'm here, Alistair," Castiel said through his teeth. "I'm here to visit the Irish prisoner."

 

"The  _Omega_ prisoner, Your Highness," Alistair said. Castiel could clearly imagine the smirk on the Alpha's face. As they walked deeper into the dungeon, Castiel had a hard time separating Alistair's scent from the scent of stale slick and blood, and the melding scents made Castiel only want to further strangle the Alpha. "Don't think I've forgotten about your little accident with that little slut."

 

Castiel dug his nails into his palms. "You speak so lowly of him, despite the fact you seem to spend the most time with him of anyone," Castiel said, speaking carefully and slowly. "If I did not know you, I would think you've almost developed an attachment to him of sorts." Castiel jumped slightly when Alistair scoffed loudly. 

 

"Excuse me, Your Highness, but I would never let myself grown attached to something as _filthy_ as him," Alistair growled. He turned to glance at Castiel over his shoulder, his face screwed up in utter disgust. Despite what his face said, Castiel could sense the slight shift in the other Alpha's scent—how it grew less musky and sweeter when he no doubt thought of the Omega. "You've clearly been misled somehow, Your Highness."

 

Castiel opened his mouth to shout back at Alistair, when he suddenly stopped. Castiel narrowly avoided running face-first into the Alpha's back as he turned. 

 

"I will not be far away, Your Highness," Alistair said, turning to bow slowly. Castiel was thrown off by the gesture—rarely anyone  _bowed_ to him anymore, and he sure hadn't expected Alistair to even consider it. Castiel simply nodded curtly to Alistair as the guard walked past the king, brushing his shoulder. When it sounded like Alistair was far enough away, Castiel exhaled, preparing to speak to the prisoner.

 

"You—"

 

"Is he gone?" 

 

Castiel was startled by the sudden voice. He looked toward the dungeon cell in front of him and saw Dean sitting against one of the walls of his cell. He was completely naked, his body slumped forward and his head down on his arms. Castiel noticed Dean's entire body was shaking. 

 

"D-Dean, I just wanted to—"

 

Dean lifted his head and glared at Castiel. He bared his teeth once, then fell apart in a fit of giggles. "You didn't answer my question,  _Alpha_. Or would you prefer I ask only after you've stuck that prick of yours up my ass and knotted it?"

 

Castiel felt himself visibly flinch at Dean's words. He'd almost forgotten that the Irish Omega could speak English just as fluently as him, and it was rare that anyone ever spoke to  _him_ so vulgarly. "Y-Yes, Alistair is gone, Dean."

 

"Oh, so you remember my name, do you?" Dean asked. He giggled again and tilted his head to one side. Castiel marveled that Dean's hair had grown longer in his relatively short imprisonment. The Alpha shook away images of his fingers carding through that hair, his hand clenching into a fist as he pulled the Omeaga's mouth closer to his. "I'm amazed,  _Your Highness._ I would've thought you'd have forgotten me after two weeks of bedding all kinds of other Omegas." Castiel also noted that Dean's English was a lot slower and more slurred than normal. He then caught sight of a jug of wine standing up beside Dean. 

 

"Have you been drinking wine, Dean?" Castiel asked, taking a step toward the bars of Dean's cell. His eyebrows came together when Dean burst out laughing. 

 

"My, you aren't the smartest king the English have ever had, are you?" Dean asked. He laid himself down on the ground of his cell, propping his head up using his elbows and hands. He tilted his head to the right and smiled. "Of course I have. When your guards just leave it in arms reach, it's not too difficult for me to get my hands on it." To make his point, he reached over and grabbed the jug of wine, taking a quick swig. 

 

"I could have you chained down at the back of your cell," Castiel said, gritting his teeth. It was beginning to annoy him that Dean always seemed to take everything he said as a joke, but at the same time, he was still intrigued by the Omega. Now, even as Casiel stood starring at Dean with clenched fists, Dean continued smiling. 

 

"Didn't realize you were just as kinky without the effects of my heat,  _Castiel_ ," Dean said, taking another long drink from the jug of wine. As he did, Castiel felt his eyes begin tingling as his upper lip curled up into a snarl. He took another step forward and grabbed hold of the bars to Dean's cell. Dean jumped at Castiel's sudden movement, spilling a little bit of the wine on himself. Castiel brought his face closer to the bars and spoke through his teeth.

 

"I originally came to meet with you to apologize for my brash decision of sending you to the gallows," he practically spat. His eyes felt like they were heavy with sleep as they shifted to Alpha red, and he watched Dean's eyes slowly meld between green and gold. "Just because I let myself go in a moment of weakness _does not_ mean you are allowed to speak over me, interrupt me, or treat me like I am some Alpha you would spread your legs for otherwise. I am a  _king_ , and as long as you remain imprisoned here— _I am your_ _king_."

* * *

* * *

 Dean had been able to smell the king coming before he even saw him. Alistair had left, not bothering to attempt hiding the fact he had just finished knotting Dean. He left his trousers undone, smiling down at Dean as he muttered a quick, "I'll be back soon, dearest." Dean kept his head turned to the side to avoid meeting Alistair's slowly fading red eyes. This had been one of the rare occasions when Alistair hadn't demanded Dean present before fucking him, and it had also been one of the worst. The entire time, like every time before for the last two weeks, Dean had silently prayed that Castiel would appear and save him from this torment. He'd never come.

 

Until now. 

 

Dean remained quiet as Alistair left, biting his lip to keep from crying out loud. When he was sure that Alistair was gone, Dean forced himself into a sitting position and dragged himself towards one of the walls of his cell. He sat against it and dragged the half-filled jug of wine he'd managed to keep hidden in his cell. He kept it beneath the pile of the prison clothes he'd stopped wearing all together. Alistair came around to his cell so often, Dean had simply saved him the hassle of having to strip him of his clothes. When he had the jug finally pulled out from beneath the clothes, he prepared to break the bottle on the ground. It would act as a pretty shit weapon compared to what Dean was used to, but it would make do for now in terms of stabbing capability. 

 

Just as Dean was raising the jug of wine in the air, his ears caught the sound of two people speaking. One, Alistair, and the other—

 

_Castiel._

 

Dean quickly set the wine back down on the ground, hiding it with his body as well as he could. He pulled his knees up to his chest and crossed his arms, placing his head down so he wouldn't have to look at Alistair again. He listened carefully for the sounds of Alistair leaving, and he exhaled quietly. Just as he was about to speak, the king nearly beat him to it. 

 

"You—"

 

"Is he gone?" Dean asked. His voice was quieter than he'd expected it would be, and he partially blamed all of the wine that he'd had earlier. 

 

After Dean had teased Castiel enough, he found himself speechless after the king snapped. His eyes had looked like they'd switched to red with a single blink, and as he yelled at Dean, the scent of Alpha dominance and arousal began permeating the air. It was intoxicating and suffocating for Dean, making his own eyes swirl to gold almost immediately. As Castiel had finished, his breathing heavily and his face red, Dean muttered the only thing he could manage.

 

" _Fuck_..."

 

Castiel's nostrils flared, no doubt catching scent and more likely sight of the slick now leaking out of Dean. In almost the next moment, the bars of Dean's cell were being ripped open—Alistair rarely ever locked them anymore—and Dean was standing to meet Castiel in a lip-crushing kiss.

 

Dean moaned, his arms coming up to wind around Castiel's neck as the Alpha's hands gripped the underside of Dean's thighs. He lifted the Omega up effortlessly—despite the fact, Dean noticed, he was actually a little bit taller than the king—and began walking backwards towards the farthest wall of the cell. Dean tilted his head, changing the angle of and deepening the kiss, and reveled in the satisfying sound of Castiel groaning. When Dean's back hit the wall, Dean managed to drag his mouth away from Castiel's, moving it towards the Alpha's ear and whispering, "You're still wearing trousers."

 

The Alpha growled and pressed Dean harder against the wall. With one hand, the other tightly gripping the underside of Dean's thigh, Castiel somehow managed to wrench down his trousers, kicking them aside. Dean watched them land on top of a dried stain on the ground. Dean couldn't remember if it had been there when he first arrived, or if it'd come from him and Alistair. 

 

" _Want me to knot you, Dean?_ " Castiel whispered in Gaelic, his voice an octave lower as the head of his cock rubbed against Dean's hole. Enough slick had built up now that Dean was sure it wouldn't take much for the king to push into him at all. "Finally fill you up until you can't help but come just on my knot?" To make his point, Castiel reached behind Dean's ear and dragged his tongue up the spot that normally produced his heatscent. Dean shuddered and gasped. 

 

" _Y-Yes_ ," Dean whimpered, tangling his fingers in the strands of hair at the back of the Alpha's head. "I need you to _knot me already, Alpha._ " _  
_

Castiel growled and slammed Dean's back against the wall. Just as Dean grunted from the pain, Castiel jerked his hips up. With next to no resistance, he entered Dean, causing the Omega to nearly shout out in pain and pleasure. Just before he could, Castiel captured his lips into another bruising kiss. After standing still for what felt like an eternity, Castiel began moving. 

 

"Oh  _fuck_ ," Dean moaned against the Alpha's lips. Each thrust hit his prostate almost directly and Dean nearly screamed every single time.

 

" _Omega..._ " Castiel growled. He reached up to grab Dean's arms around his neck, and slammed the other man's wrists against the wall above him. Without the support there, Dean had to tighten his legs around Castiel's waist, which only made every stab to his prostate harder and his almost-screams louder. When Dean felt heat begin pooling in his abdomen, he whimpered and began grinding his too-hard dick against the front of Castiel's shirt, smearing it with pre-come. 

 

"Open your eyes, Dean," Castiel said, his voice returned to its regular octave and his panting only to a minimum. Dean hadn't even realized that he'd closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he found Castiel staring straight at him. His blue eyes were long gone, the irises replaced with bright Alpha red. Even still, his pupils had dilated to where only a thin ring of red even still remained. The sight on its own was enough to drag another moan out of Dean. "You're close?"

 

Dean nodded, biting his bottom lip when he felt a particularly sharp jab to his prostate to suppress a whimper. 

 

"Then come for me," Castiel muttered, moving his head to nuzzle the spot where Dean's neck met his of shoulder. " _Come for me, Dean._ " And Dean did, just as he felt Castiel's teeth sink into the meat of his neck. Dean cried out but the cry died in his throat almost immediately when he felt Castiel's thrust begin to stutter as he came inside of Dean. The bite along with his and Castiel's orgasm became too much for Dean, and he blacked out with a loud gasp. 

 

When Dean came to, he was on the ground, but he was wrapped in something too warm and silk and deliciously scented for it to be real. He opened his eyes slowly and saw Castiel sitting across from him on the ground. His face was red—from embarrassment or exertion, Dean didn't know—and he looked relieved when Dean began attempting to sit up. "Oh good, you're awake."

 

"And wrapped in that ridiculous cloak you arrived in," Dean observed, pulling the cloak tighter around despite his jab. After spending so long down in the cold dungeon to the point where he'd simply gotten used to it, the cloak provided a welcome warmth that Dean wasn't prepared to give up. "How long was I out?"

 

"Not long," Castiel said. When he looked down, Dean saw that his eyes were back to their normal calm blue. "I only just laid my cloak on top of you." Dean nodded, pulling the cloak tighter once more. He and Castiel sat in awkward silence. The entire time, Dean racked his brain to find something to say—but what  _exactly_ did you say to the Alpha king of your country's longtime enemy whom you just had mind-blowing sex with?

 

Like an idiot, Dean decided with, "You're much better than Alistair, if that counts for anything."

 

Castiel snapped his head up, his lip pulling up in a snarl as his eyes flashed red. " _Alistair..._ "

 

"He bugs you too, then?" Dean asked, marveling at how quickly and easily Castiel went from shy-looking and nervous to an Alpha ready to rip off someone's throat. 

 

"More than simply  _bugs_ me," Castiel muttered bitterly. "He's been apart of my guard since I became king, and I've only ever wanted to shove him in one of these cells himself." Castiel shook his head and looked back down into his lap. 

 

Dean tilted his head to one side. "So...why don't you?" he asked. "I mean...you're the bloody _king_ around here, are you not? Charge him with some kind of unspeakable crime and toss his ass in jail. It shouldn't be too difficult." Dean immediately regretted saying anything as Castiel looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow and a flat expression. "What?" Dean asked.

 

"You think I have not tried that?" Castiel asked. He ran his hands over his face and into his hair, shoving it back from his face for only a second before the curls snapped back in place. "But kings do not simply arrest members of their guard unless completely necessary. Besides, no one here would believe such a thing, now that almost everyone in the castle knows you're an Omega."

 

Dean swallowed and felt his fingertips numb.  _Shit_.

 

"Then how about I do you one better?" Dean said. He let go of the cloak, letting it fall to the ground as he crawled over to the king. Castle's eyebrows drew together for a moment before Dean was crawling onto his lap, straddling his legs and pressing their crotches together. 

 

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, his warm breath ghosting over Dean's quickly cooling skin. 

 

Dean smiled. "How about we just kill him?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cool, I put sex in this one.
> 
>  
> 
> Hey, maybe I'll update Scarves this weekend. Who knows?


	13. Special Occasion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You've graced me with your presence," Dean said, setting down Impala's hoof and standing up from his stool. He began wiping off his hands on his trousers as Benny strode up to him. Up closer, Dean could see the faint shadow across Benny's face and the light blue of his eyes. Benny's eyes were Dean's favorite part of his face—he liked how they somehow seemed to grow brighter the wider he smiled and how Dean seemed to be the only one who ever saw them that way. "What's the special occasion?"

Dean remained spread out on the ground, Castiel's cloak covering him as he stared up at the ceiling of his cell. He breathed evenly, enjoying the lingering smells of sex in the small cell. It wouldn't be long until the scent would just fade away and become another one of the multitude of others down in the dungeon, becoming so familiar that Dean wouldn't be able to distinguish mold from the scent of his own slick. 

 

Castiel had left not long ago, his hair sticking up in every direction and a fierce blush on his cheeks. It had been somewhat funny, seeing the king of an entire country blushing and stumbling after having fucked an Omega from his country's ultimate enemy. Dean had remained on the ground, wiggling his fingers in a wave as Castiel left, trying desperately to smooth down his hair. Almost immediately, Dean had curled up on top of the king's cloak, which had been left behind in the cell, and began scenting the fabric, inhaling the spicy and satisfying scent of Alpha.  _His Alpha_. 

 

Dean rolled over, pulling the cloak around him as he reached a hand up to his neck. He lightly fingered the slowly healing bite on his neck. It wasn't too deep, only a simple claiming bite. It was eventually fade away after two or three days, but until then, Dean would have to keep from looking anyone in the eye. Claiming bites switched the eye colors of the Alpha and Omeg involved, making it non difficult for anyone to identify potential mates. Dean knew Alistair and the other guards would find his sudden blue eyes strange, and he figured those in the castle would be confused by the king's suddenly green eyes. It would be easier if they stayed hidden from anyone until the pucker-like bite finally healed over. 

 

As Dean remained lying on the ground, his mind wandered to thoughts of mates. Specifically, his  _own_  mate.

* * *

_"Dean!"_

 

_Dean looked up from where he'd been cleaning the hooves of his horse, Impala, and smiled as he watched Benjamin Lafitte of France ride into the stables atop his own horse. He was dressed down, more so than he normally was—he wore only a loose dark blue tunic and black trousers tucked into riding boots. His hair was long and hung down to just above his ears, pushed back by the wind from his previous ride. He stopped his horse, a large brown horse named Andrea, and climbed off, patting his horse's side when she began lightly stamping her feet._

 

 _"You've graced me with your presence," Dean said, setting down Impala's hoof and standing up from his stool. He began wiping off his hands on his trousers as Benny strode up to him. Up closer, Dean could see the faint shadow across Benny's face and the light blue of his eyes. Benny's eyes were Dean's favorite part of his face—he liked how they somehow_ _seemed to grow brighter the wider he smiled and how Dean seemed to be the only one who ever saw them that way. "What's the special occasion?"_

 

_"I simply wanted to visit you, Dean," Benny said. As he came closer to Dean, Benny outstretched his arms and pulled Dean into a tight embrace. Dean sighed as Benny's comforting Alpha scent enveloped him, the scent of French spices and horse mixing with the smell of the stable. "Can't I simply do that?" Dean pulled back from his hug with Benny to look up at him. Benny put a finger beneath Dean's chin and smiled at him, leaning close. "Considering we are to be married?"_

 

_As Benny leaned in to close to press his lips to Dean's, Dean sighed again and reached his arms up to wrap around the Alpha's neck. He loved this—the familiarity of Benny and everything he stood for. Sure, their marriage was arranged and meant to unite the French and Irish against the British, but unlike many of the other suitors that had been paraded in front of Dean, Benny was actually nice. He'd joked with Dean about the swiftness of their engagement, commenting once that he'd wished he could have had a chance to race him on horseback before they were to become mates. He'd gone against the rules of Dean's father and frequently snuck wine to Dean whenever they ate dinner together in Dean's room. He'd spar with Dean and wouldn't treat him like he was a delicate Omega. And he even went as far as to tutor Dean in French, teaching him the most basic phrases._

 

 _But of everything Benny did for Dean, Dean enjoyed sex with him the most. He loved the intimacy_ _between them. The first time they'd had sex, Benny hadn't demanded that Dean present—instead, he'd opted to face Dean, kissing him and whispering into Dean's ear while Dean's fingers dug into the skin of Benny's back._ _And Benny listened to him, pounding Dean into his bed when he needed it—practically begged for it, and caressing his face gently when he asked for it. Benny was absolutely_ _perfect._

 

" _I've been working on my French," Dean said when they finally pulled back to breath. His fingers lightly played with the long stands of hair at the back of Benny's head as Benny's tilted his head to one side and smiled._

 

_"Oh?"_

 

_Dean bit his bottom lip as he stood on his toes to lean closer to Benny's ear. "Je M'appelle Dean Winchester et j'aime Benny Lafitte," he whispered in slow French. It was the first full sentence he'd managed to learn and memorize from Benny's lessons. It sounded weird in his accent, and Dean feared he may have somehow mispronounced it when he heard Benny's sharp intake of breath._

 

_"You...You love me?" Benny asked, the hands currently resting on Dean's waist tightening. Dean dropped back down onto his flat feet, looking up into Benny's blue eyes. They were the color of a clear and cloudless day, and right now open extremely wide in surprise. Dean bit his bottom lip again, smiling as he nodded. "Yes, I love you," Dean said, feeling the sudden fluttering in his entire body as he spoke the words out loud in his own language._

 

_Benny immediate reaction consisted of grabbing Dean and shoving into the wall of Impala's stall. He pressed up against Dean, his breathing heavy as he kissed Dean as though he were just on his way off to war. Dean yelped in surprise as Benny's hands came down to smooth over his ass, eventually stopping beneath his thighs to pull his legs up and around Benny's waist. Dean tightened his grip on Benny's neck as the Alpha began softly growling through the kiss and lightly humping against Dean. The friction Benny's movements created had Dean pulling away and panting, wanting desperately to do nothing but retreat back to his room in his family's castle and take the Alpha's knot over and over._

 

_"I love you," Dean said, cupping the side of Benny's face with one hand as he stared into the Alpha's eyes. They were beginning to shift to red, and only then did Dean notice that Benny was crying._

 

_"I-I love you, too, D-Dean," Benny stuttered, smiling despite how much his teeth seemed to be chattering. Dean leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to Benny's lips, lightly biting the Alpha's lip as he pulled back._

 

_"Now, I don't know about you, but I'm not sure the horses would appreciate watching us have sex in a stable," Dean said, glancing at Andrea, who'd wandered away to the other side of the stable. Benny chuckled lightly and let Dean fall back to the ground. When he did, Benny crowded Dean back against the wall of the stall one last time. He quickly kissed Dean and muttered a quiet, "I love you."_

* * *

Dean covered his mouth as he felt tears begin falling from his eyes.

 

That had been the last happy moment Dean had had with Benny. Not long after, news had arrived from France that Paris had been attacked by the British, forcing Benny to return home. About three weeks after that, more news arrived: Benny's boat to France had been ambushed and only he had been taken prisoner by the British. Dean had known how the British treated the prisoners of Irish allies—torture, if they weren't lucky. A quick public hanging if they were. 

 

Dean had spent weeks waiting anxiously for any news of Benny. _Anything_ —if he were still being held prisoner; if he were being tortured; hell, even knowing if he were  _dead_ would have been better than knowing nothing at all. Dean drank or cried himself to sleep frequently, waking up in the middle of the night grabbing frantically at the other side of his bed for someone who wasn't there. 

 

The news came after two months: _Benny was dead_. His decapitated head had been shipped to the French, along with a warning of joining any alliance with the Irish. Any possible chance of an alliance with France were gone—Benny's family blamed Dean's for Benny's death, and they refused to deal with them ever again. 

 

Of everyone in the Winchester castle, Dean mourned Benny the worst. The nightmares only grew worse as time went on—sometimes, they were filled with images of Benny  above him like when they had sex, only his eyes were stabbed out and his mouth stitched shut; other times, Dean just heard those three same words over and over again:

 

_Benny is dead. Benny is dead. Benny is dead._

 

Dean began drinking like a proper Irishman, fighting off all those who claimed an Omega shouldn't drink like an Alpha. He slept around frequently as well, numbing the pain just long enough until he was able to get another drink. It became a vicious cycle: let himself get fucked, drink himself into a stupor, and repeat. The cycle was only broken when he discovered that fighting in battle was just as good as the best sex and wine, if not better. 

 

 _But your stupid obsession with battle is what got you here in the first place,_ Dean thought to himself bitterly. He wiped at the corners of his eyes, tightening his hand into a fist in Castiel's cloak. 

 

 _Castiel_. A distraction. That's all he was:  _just a distraction_. Something to distract him until he figured out a way to get out of this hellhole and return home or die trying. Nothing more. 

 

_So why do I feel the same as when I was with Benny?_

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Dean is a prince. Yes, Benny was supposed to be his mate. No, I don't care if Britain never invaded France during medieval-ish era. (P.S. I don't speak French. Ich spreche Deutsch.) [I DID NOT MEAN FOR THIS TO BE SO FUCKING SAD. JESUS FUCK, I'M SORRY.]
> 
> This was supposed to have smut and sexy-times in it and be a ton longer, but as you all know, I'm awful and school is a bitch that keeps me from ever writing, like, ever. So yeah....a kinda short chapter. I'll TRY with all my might to update again this weekend for redemption, but don't set fires if I'm not able to. 
> 
>  
> 
> Like it? Leave a kudos.  
> LOVE it? Leave a comment.  
> Ideas for things? Prompts? Leave that shit in the comments, and I'll try writing it.


	14. Anna's Chambers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You look like shit," Anna said. She leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. Castiel raised an eyebrow as he looked over Anna again. 
> 
> "Same goes for you," he replied. Anna smiled and moved back into her room, allowing Castiel to enter after her. Unlike Castiel's room, Anna's faced the sun during the day. Dying sunlight fell into her room and her bed cast a shadow toward her closet. No candles had yet been lit, but Anna's room was still more bright than Castiel's any day. 
> 
> "Samandriel says that you called for me to discuss the possibility of you finding a...mate," Castiel said, struggling to even say the word to his younger sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone commented on an earlier chapter that they were confused about the details of the A/B/O dynamics in this fic. SO, naturally, I wrote out some quick details about mates and Alphas vs Betas vs Omegas and all that shit. Hopefully this is helpful to y'all. :3 (If not, comment anything that doesn't make sense or is missing)
> 
>  
> 
> "Alphas have the most power in society (kings, queens, dukes, etc...). Betas are the common people normally and don't typically have much power in society in terms of political power (storeowners, advisors to the king, artisans, merchants, etc...). Omegas are, per the norm, normally prostitutes or royal consorts and have no political power other than as pawns in marriage alliances. 
> 
> Alphas are predominantly male, but there can be female Alphas. Betas can be of either sex, and they are the most like normal people. Omegas are predominantly female, and male Omegas are extremely rare. Female Alphas can get their mates pregnant much like male Alphas, and male Omegas can become pregnant like Alpha, Beta, and Omega females. 
> 
> In the case of mating, ONLY Alphas and Omegas can mate together in the traditional sense. A mating is made when an Omega is knotted by an Alpha and the Alpha proceeds to give the Omega a mating bite, which must be reciprocated by the Omega. If only the Alpha bites the Omega, then it is only a claiming bite. Much like a mating bite, a claiming bite switches the colors of the Alpha's and Omega's eyes for about three days following (it eventually fades away), but the effects of a claiming bite do not remain. During this time, the Alpha and Omega will want nothing more than to complete the mating process and give one another a mating bite. Once a mating is complete, both the Alpha and Omega involved will have bites on their neck to represent their bond. A mating can only be broken in the case of the death of either the Alpha or Omega."

"Your Highness, your sister has requested you visit her in her chambers," Samandriel said. Castiel glanced up from the book he was reading to lightly chuckle at how low Samandriel was bowing. If he bent a tad bit lower, his nose would be touching his knees. 

 

"Did she say why?" Castiel asked, setting his bookmark into his book as he shut it. He set it beside him on the bed and ran hands through his hair. As he did, he caught the ever fainting scent of Dean on his skin, and he bit his lip to hold back a low growl. 

 

"No, she did not say, Sir," Samandriel said, straightening up. He twitched and played with the frayed bit of fabric on his tunic. Castiel narrowed his eyes as he noticed Samandriel shifting from foot to foot.  _He's lying_ , Castiel thought, standing up off of his bed and walking up to the fidgeting Beta. When he was not very far from him, he tilted his head to one side. 

 

"Why is it that you lie to me, Samandriel?" he asked carefully. Castiel crossed his arms behind his back and rolled up onto his toes like a child would. Samandriel's eyes turned down to the floor as he refused to look at the king. "Samandriel, look at me." When he did, Castiel placed a hand on the Beta's shoulder. Castiel noticed Samandriel's slight flinch when he touched him. He must have been startled by the eyes, his normally blue eyes now green from the claiming bite he'd left on Dean. If he was, Samandriel did not make any mention of it. "Did Anael say why she has requested me?"

 

Samandriel bit his lip as he looked down to his hands. "S-She wishes your opinion on...a-a mate, Your Highness," Samandriel said, his face suddenly flushing bright red as he played with the same frayed bit of fabric. 

 

Castiel felt his face pale while his eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A... _mate?_ " he questioned, letting go of Samandriel's shoulder. "Wh-Why does she—?"

 

"She simply demanded I bring you to her chambers with great haste, Your Highness," Samandriel said. "She said she has possibly found a mate for herself and wishes your opinion." Castiel could see how visibly uncomfortable Samandriel was, speaking about the royal family and mates with the king. He saved the Beta from having to continue as he quickly spoke, "I will prepare quickly."

 

Samandriel went to stand outside of the king's room as Castiel changed into a fresh shirt and pair of trousers. When he went to grab his cloak off the hook, Castiel was surprised to find it missing. As he groaned in frustration, ready to call for a servant and ask where it was, he suddenly froze. 

 

 _That's right_. He'd left it down in the dungeons. With  _Dean_. Castiel sighed as he fell against the wall of his room, pressing the heel of his hand against the sudden erection at his crotch. He groaned and wasted no time pulling down his trousers to free his cock. As he began jerking himself, he thought of Dean. His scent, his eyes, his whimpers of ecstasy as Castiel had fucked up into him. Castiel let his head fall back against the wall as he continued pulling at his dick, twisting his hand at the tip and imagining Dean kneeling in front of him. 

 

 _You can have that_ , Castiel thought to himself.  _You can go down now and fuck him against the nearest wall. Knot him, even. He would not protest._

 

And Castiel knew that. He knew that he had could do just that, run back down to the dungeons and whisper plans of how to kill the wretched Alistair into Dean's skin while the Omega ran his hands through Castiel's hair. But, right now, he could not.

 

Castiel placed his free hand to his mouth and bit in the skin of his arm as he spilled over his hand and onto the floor, staining the front of his trousers. Castiel panted as he released the skin of his arm, wiping the small bit of spit that had been left behind on his now ruined trousers. He quickly changed into a fresh pair of trousers as he grabbed his bathing robe, wrapping it around his body. 

 

"To Anael's chambers," Castiel said, smoothing down his hair, which was surely sticking out like mad. Samandriel jumped as the king came up behind him, turning around and placing a hand to his chest. Samandriel sighed and nodded, clasping his hands in front of him. 

 

"To the princess's chambers," Samandriel said, turning and walking down the hall in the direction of Anna's wing of the castle. Samandriel did not speak to Castiel as they made their way to Anna's. He was silent, walking a little bit faster than the king with his head down and arms crossed in front of him. Castiel gnawed his top lip as they walked, passing the occasional solider or servant or court member. 

 

"Your eyes are green now, Your Highness," Samandriel said. He spoke so quietly that Castiel almost did not hear him.

 

"Yes, I've done well and placed a claiming bite on an Omega," Castiel replied. As Castiel waved and nodded to a soldier bowing to him, Samandriel began slowing down until he walked nearly beside the king. "I had forgotten in my... _enraptured_  state that leaving a claiming mark changed the color of my eyes." It wasn't completely untrue: Castiel _had_ —accidentally _—_ given Dean a claiming bite. He'd only meant to leave behind a small bruise, nothing that wouldn't disappear in a few hours time. But he hadn't planned on his teeth practically acting of their own accord, sinking into the skin of Dean's neck as he'd came inside of him. He'd been lucky to not fully knot the Omega when he'd bitten him.

 

"A proper Omega?" Samandriel said. Castiel ignored the surprised look on the Beta's face as he nodded. "Was she beautiful?"

 

" _He_ was quite handsome," Castiel said. They did not continue to speak after that. 

 

It was not too long until they finally came to the door of Anna's room. Samandriel knocked quickly, straightening up as the door was opened not by a servant, but Anna herself. Her hair was piled on top of her head again, the short wisps of her hair held up only by the thin circlet shoved down on her head. She did not have any face paint on, and the natural olive tone of her skin stood out with her red hair. She was dressed only in night clothes and a haphazardly thrown-on bathing robe, much like Castiel. 

 

"Wonderful, Samandriel, you brought him," Anna said, smiling tiredly. She stepped forward and pressed a kiss to the side of his face, just beside his right eye. "Thank you, and good fortune to yourself and others. You may now go." Samandriel's face flushed bright red again as he nodded and muttered a quiet, "Thank you, milady." He quickly turned and disappeared down the hall, no doubt to speak with the other servants of what had happened to him. 

 

"You look like shit," Anna said. She leaned in the doorway and crossed her arms over her chest. Castiel raised an eyebrow as he looked over Anna again. 

 

"Same goes for you," he replied. Anna smiled and moved back into her room, allowing Castiel to enter after her. She made no comment on his eyes like Samandriel had.

 

"Samandriel says that you called for me to discuss the possibility of you finding a... _mate_ ," Castiel said, struggling to even say the word to his younger sister. 

 

Anna laughed shortly, sitting down on her bed and pulling the circlet off her head. "Not possibility, dear brother," she said, setting the crown down beside her on her bed and shaking her head. "No, not possibility. I _have_ found the Beta I wish to spend the rest of my life with, and I simply wished to tell you prior to any ceremonies."

 

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall next to the door. "You have never been one to follow the traditional rules of this kingdom, Anna," Castiel said. He knew how much Anna detested all of the rules that came with being a member of the royal family—men married at twenty-one while women married at eighteen or younger; only Alpha family members could ascend to take the throne; no sleeping about with those whom they would not marry  _blah blah blah..._ So many rules that Castiel, too, disliked and actively tried to ignore. 

 

Anna rolled her eyes. "Of course not," she said, letting her hair fall down around her shoulders. She then immediately began working it up into her now-popular updo as she spoke. "Her name is Charlie. Charlie of Bradbury, if that be her actual name."

 

 _Her._ "Where is she from?" Castiel asked. 

 

"France, is where I met her," Anna said. She began working pins into her hair to catch the flyaway hairs. "I'm still not sure if she is truly from England as she stated, but she does speak English as well as any other in the castle." Anna finished pinning up her hair and turned to face Castiel. "Castiel, come sit by me." Castiel walked over to Anna's bed and sat beside her, taking her hands when she held them out to him. 

 

"Yes, Anna?"

 

"I would like your 'permission' to mate with her, dear King of England and Scotland, too," Anna said, rolling his eyes aa she said "permission." It didn't matter if Castiel gave permission to Anna to mate and marry or not; she would have gone ahead and done whatever she pleased.

 

"Two Betas cannot mate together, Anna," Castiel said. "Regardless, you have my permission and blessing for marriage." 

 

Anna smriked and her irises flashed bright red. 

 

"Who ever said I was a Beta?"

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the spiel. (Like? Kudos. Love? Comment.)
> 
> Hey look, another no sex chapter. Don't worry, I'll deliver with my next update. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Sorry if some of the phrasing on this sounds mega Shakespeare-esque. I've watched the BBC version of Hamlet at least three times in the last two days.)


	15. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're already so wet for me, Omega," Castiel breathed, slipping the tip of his finger inside Dean. He cried out, tipping his head back and tightening his grasp around Castiel's neck. "And still so tight."
> 
>  
> 
> "Nngh...Cas, please...I-I need you..." Dean panted, screwing his eyes shut and wiggling his hips. Castiel realized he was trying to take more of Castiel's finger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. Honestly, if you think I'm the shittiest author ever, I do not blame you one bit. I've been stuck in a writer's block these past few weeks and I haven't been able to find any time to write (Show Choir is very a-strenuous). However, I now have oodles of time to write and post chapters for all of my pics as well as take any commissions that you guys have for me. SO EVERYONE CELEBRATE.
> 
> Chapters should be up every other week. If not, comment to get my attention.
> 
> (Sorry that the beginning of this chapter is shit. I just really wanted to get to the sexy bits.)

Castiel continued to stare straight at Anna, his eyes wide and his mouth dropped open. The edges of Anna's eyes crinkled when she smiled warmly.

"Close your mouth, brother dear, or you'll catch flies," she said, dissolving into giggles as Castiel's mouth snapped shut quickly.

"B-But...y-your eyes...?" Castiel stuttered, continuing to stare as the red in Anna's eyes began fading.

"You're one to talk," Anna scoffed. She gestured to his face before crossing her arms over her chest. "What about you, walking around with some Omega's green eyes?" Castiel felt his fave begin blushing as one of Anna's eyebrows raised.

"That has nothing to do with the matter..." Castiel muttered, casting his eyes downward. He mentally cursed himself for giving Dean that claiming bite.

"Siblings keeping secrets, dear," Anna said, reaching forward to tap Castiel on the nose. "I kept the fact I've been an Alpha away from you, and you've kept the juicy details of whatever Omega you're knotting away from me."

Castiel's face screwed up as he looked back up into Anna's eyes. The red had complelety dissipated now, leaving behind only their familiar brown. Only now, Castiel could still faintly Invision the red, just enough that her eyes seemed more auburn like her hair. "There's no 'Omega I'm knotting'," Castiel said quietly, placing quotations around Anna's phrase. "I-I...I just..."

"So when did it happen?" Castiel almost rolled his eyes as Anna stretched out on her bed, lying on her stomach and resting her head in hands. She kicked her feet as she blinked up at her brother. Castiel was reminded of when she would lie like that as a child, waiting for gossip from one of her handmaidens as they waited on her.

"The green looks like they've faded a bit back to your regular blue, though," Anna observed, cocking her head to one side and narrowing her eyes. "So I'll guess it was, what....two days ago, perhaps?" She raised her eyebrows, asking whether or not she were correct. Castiel continued to stare at Anna, silently willing the green of his eyes to dissipate now rather than later. "Am I right, or wrong?"

 

"What—?"

 

Anna suddenly sat up and pointed right at Castiel's face, her eyes wide and a smile on her face. "It's the Irish prisoner, _isn't it?_ " she cried, clapping her hands together and pressing them to her chest. Castiel sighed and nodded, wincing when Anna began screaming. "Well it's about fucking time."

 

"Language, An—" Castiel began. 

 

"Oh, just quit it, Castiel," Anna said, punching Castiel's shoulder. He jolted when she did and narrowed his eyes again. "So...you've mated with him then?"

 

Castiel shook his head. "No, I didn't," he said. "He didn't give me a bite back, so I've only laid a temporary claim on him."

 

"But you  _did_ knot him, didn't you?" 

 

Castiel looked down into his lap and bit his lip before shaking his head. "No...n-not entirely."

 

"Not  _entirely?_ " Anna asked. 

 

"You sound like you're scolding me for not mating with the first Omega I ever knotted," Castiel observed, looking back up at Anna. 

 

"Only because I can tell that you love him," Anna said. "Even though you can't tell."

 

* * *

 

Castiel took the steps leading down to the dungeon carefully, making sure he didn't make too much noise. He felt his way down the wall of the staircase as he took small steps. As he came down to the final step, he pulled out the small knife he had hidden in his sleeve. He walked up to the door leading to the cells and fit the small blade into the lock. He slowly pushed the blade into the lock and began turning it until the lock clicked. Castiel exhaled sharply in relief as he opened the door, quickly slipping inside before closing the door.

 

Castiel wasted no time in quickly making his way down the hall of cells until he finally reached **—**

 

" _Dean_ ," Castiel breathed. The Omega looked up as Castiel said his name. He was sitting against the farthest wall of his cell with his head down and his knees pulled up to his chest. He was still naked like the last time Castiel had seen him, and his green eyes were bloodshot from crying. Dean's face relaxed in relief as he recognized Castiel. "Dean, it's me."

 

"Didn't realize you could speak Gaelic outside of our conversations together," Dean said in Gaelic, his voice raspy and snarky as he got onto his hands and knees. He crawled forward and stopped right before the bars of his cell, slowly wagging his ass as Castiel felt his eyes begin tingling and his trousers grow tighter. "I thought you only spoke 'the Devil's tongue' when you spoke with me."

 

Castiel gripped the cell bars with one hand and shoved the bade of his knife into the lock. He twisted the knife and threw open the door to the cell. He was on Dean quickly, pressing the Omega to the ground as he began kissing him. He set aside the knife as he ran his hands up Dean's side, gripping his hips as he rubbed his crotch against Dean's.

 

" _Fuck, Cas..._ " Dean moaned, reaching up to wrap his arms around Castiel's neck. He pulled down Castiel's head sharply and deepened their kiss, slotting their mouths together and pushing his tongue into the Alpha's mouth. 

 

Castiel exhaled through his nose as he forced off his own clothes. He threw them aside near where he'd thrown his knife and reached down between Dean's legs to rub a finger over Dean's hole. As he did, Castiel caught the smell of Dean's slick as it began leaking from the Omega's hole. 

 

"You're already so wet for me, Omega," Castiel breathed, slipping the tip of his finger inside Dean. He cried out, tipping his head back and tightening his grasp around Castiel's neck. "And still so  _tight._ "

 

" _Nngh_...Cas, please...I-I need you..." Dean panted, screwing his eyes shut and wiggling his hips. Castiel realized he was trying to take more of Castiel's finger. 

 

"Need me to do what, Dean?" Castiel asked, pushing the finger inside Dean deeper and reveling in the high-pitched moans it forced out of the Omega. 

 

Dean left out a frustrated huff and used the grip on Castiel's neck to pull into another intoxicating and long-winded kiss. Just as Castiel was pressing his tongue into Dean's mouth, the Omega pulled back and whispered, "Another. I need you to add another. I need it, Cas," against the side of Castiel's mouth. Castiel easily complied, pressing another finger inside Dean's easily loose hole and beginning to scissor him. Dean whined as he thrust up his hips, trying to push the fingers even deeper. 

 

"You're mighty eager, aren't you?" Castiel asked, staring down in wonder at Dean's flushed chest. 

 

"Alistair has been... _kind_ to me these last few days," Dean said, his voice shaking. "Somehow, he managed to not rape me in the last few days."

 

Castiel grabbed Dean's chin with his free hand and looked into the Omega's green and gold eyes. They had not changed completely, and they were still stuck in between the two colors, melding together. Castiel figured his own eyes probably looked the same **—** halfway between Alpha red and his normal blue **—** and he leaned forward to place a kiss to the corner of Dean's eyes. 

 

"Try to forget about the bastard now," Castiel said, slowing his fingers inside of Dean. He smiled and released Dean's jaw to press a chaste kiss to his lips. "Besides, he should be dead by next week."

 

The gold in Dean's eyes suddenly flashed as it swallowed up the green. Dean surged up to kiss Castiel, moving his body down to meet the shallow thrusts of Castiel's fingers. 

 

"C-Cas..." Dean whimpered. Dean looked straight into Castiel's eyes, his teeth chattering and his body still shaking. "I need you to fuck me."

 

 Castiel smiled and slipped his fingers from Dean's hole. He quickly lined himself up and leaned down to kiss Dean. "You're so beautiful like this," Castiel whispered as he thrust forward and slid inside Dean's tense body. He groaned loudly and his body went pliant, the grip on Castiel loosening. "Stunning and gorgeous."

 

" _Shut up and fuck me_ ," Dean said through gritted teeth, digging his hands into the long and unruly strands of hair at the back of Castiel's head. He'd said it in English, rather than Gaelic, and it had startled Castiel. He groaned and slowly began moving, pressing forward until his hips were pressed flush against Dean. Castiel exhaled as he began moving inside Dean, enjoying the soft sighs and pants from Dean. 

 

" _God_ , you're so tight," Castiel hissed in Gaelic. "And so  _warm_."

 

"Such dirty language for the king of a Christian empire," Dean shot back in English. He smirked as Castiel groaned again. He'd never be able to get over how Dean spoke English **—** his Irish accent rough and he still had the ever-so-slight broken fluency of a beginner. Even still, Dean knew exactly how to pronounce the dirtiest of words that made Castiel want to scent and fuck him for hours.

 

"What do you know of me, besides what you've heard in Ireland?" Castiel asked, thrusting up sharply and grinning as he hit Dean's prostate. It forced out a high-pitched scream as Dean tightened his grip around Castiel's neck again, arching up his back. "I bet you've only heard about how I've sent my soldiers to kill your country's men."

 

Dean hissed. " _Close_ ," Dean panted, while he wrapped his legs around Castiel's lower back.

 

"I was close?" Castiel asked. 

 

Dean quickly shook his head back and forth while he bit his bottom lip. "N-No, I'm c-close...I-I'm gonna,  **** _fuck_ , I'm gonna—"

 

Castiel reached down to grasp Dean's dick, which was hard and leaking between their stomachs. He ran his hand up and down Dean's length, twisting at the top to pull wretched noises from the Omega. Dean arched up into Castiel's body, moving to meet Castiel's thrusts. They were slowly becoming more and more erratic as Castiel felt his knot beginning to swell.

 

"I'm gonna come, Cas," Dean whimpered, digging his fingers into the skin of Castiel's back. " _Shit_ , I'm gonna **—** "

 

"Come for me, Dean," Castiel whispered, pressing his forehead against Dean's collarbone. "Come for me  _right now_."

 

Dean screamed in his release and Castiel felt Dean clench around him. Dean spilled over his hand and almost immediately fell pliant again, his hands loosening around Castiel's neck. Castiel could feel his release coming and he was prepared to pull. Just as he stopped, one of Dean's hands suddenly slid into the hair at the back of Castiel's head. He looked down at Dean and exhaled sharply when he saw how flushed Dean looked. With his golden eyes, he was somehow even more beautiful. 

 

"I want you to b-bite me again," Dean said, his teeth chattering. "I want you to come inside me and bite me."

 

Castiel quickly shook his head. "I-I can't. It was...an accident the first time I bit you, Dean," Castiel said. "And now it's too dangerous for me to even risk biting you again."

 

Dean met and held Castiel's eyes. Then, he stretched up and kissed Castiel again. He twisted his hands into Castiel's hair, moving his hips to push himself down on Castiel's still nonmoving cock, then pulled back just enough to whisper, "Then don't bite me. Just knot me.  _Please_."

 

Castiel nodded and began moving again, pounding Dean into the floor until he finally felt his knot beginning to catch on Dean's rim. Castiel resisted the overwhelming urges that came over him **—** _bite, knot, mate **—**_ and sucked a bruise on the side of Dean's neck, right over the healed spot where he'd bitten Dean only days ago. Soon, Castiel was coming inside Dean, his knot fully inside the Omega and tying them together. Castiel collapsed on top of Dean, breathing and sweating heavily.

 

"Certainly better than the first time," Dean muttered against Castiel's face. Castiel chuckled and managed to support himself on his elbows above Dean. He rubbed the edge of his thumb over Dean's cheekbones, which were still bright red as Dean's breathing slowed. Dean cleared his throat, breaking Castiel from his reverie. "I'll guess you didn't just come here to have mind-blowing sex, yes?"

 

Castiel reached over and grabbed the knife he'd put aside earlier. He held it up to the faint candlelight of the cell, catching the design on its blade and hilt. The knife was small, small enough to easily be hidden in a corner somewhere in the cell. Castiel had taken care to make sure he had the sheath hidden in his clothing. As he finished examining the knife, he placed the knife in Dean's hand, closing his fingers around the hilt.

 

"You know how to use a short knife, I presume?" Castiel asked, meeting Dean's eyes.

 

"Uh, y-yeah," Dean stuttered. He glanced at the knife in his hand then back at Castiel in confusion.

 

Castiel leaned down and bit Dean's earlobe. Dean hissed and his body slowly arched up into Castiel's. As Castiel released Dean's earlobe, he whispered lowly, "It's a gift for you. Why don't you use it to kill Alistair?"

* * *

 


	16. I Missed You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean looked down, his face flushing as he pretended to be suddenly shy. "I-I just...I missed you, is all," he lied, making his voice quiet and timid like a normal Omega's would be in the presence of an Alpha. He released Alistair's jacket and he watched Alistair's hand reach for the keys to Dean's cell. 
> 
> "It's the Omega in you, love," Alistair said, looking Dean up and down. "Your body's begun to miss my pheromones, so you couldn't help yourself when you saw me." Dean wanted to roll his eyes at Alistair's words, but he instead bit his lip then looked up and nodded slowly. Alistair chuckled, then reached forward to stroke the side of Dean's face. "Unfortunately, I can't knot you now, love. I have...a prior engagement I must attend to." Alistair smiled devilishly again, then reached forward to grab the back of Dean's head. He yanked Dean's face forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to Dean's lips that tasted overwhelmingly of ale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BACK BITCHES.  
> BET YOU THOUGHT I'D FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS PIECE OF SHIT.  
> BUT NAH SON, I'VE JUST BEEN WORKING ON A KINSMAN PIECE OF SHIT FANFIC. (hey go read [that](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4030006/chapters/9061402))
> 
> Note: I based Winchester Castle in this fic off the [ACTUALLY EXISTING WINCHESTER CASTLE](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Winchester_Castle#/media/File:Hampshire_UK_location_map.svg) in Hampshire, England. I had no idea there was even a Winchester Castle. Like, what the fuck?

Dean sat back against the wall of his cell, staring down at his crossed legs. In his lap sat the knife Castiel had given him. He held the hilt in his hands and let the blade rest against his calf. He raised the knife, squinting his eyes to inspect it in the dim light of the candles. The knife's blade was short and covered in an intricate design that looked similar to the vines that covered the walls of his cell. The knife's blade was shiny and clean, cleaner than any knife he'd ever used back home, and he turned the knife towards him to look at himself.

 

_It's a gift for you. Why don't you use it to kill Alistair?_  

 

Dean sighed then shut his eyes, which still had the slightest remnants of gold mixed together with the green. He let go of the knife, letting it clash to the ground, and pulled his legs up to his chest. He opened his eyes and stared down at the knife. Dean began gnawing at his lip as he thought of the way Castiel had bitten his earlobe when he'd given Dean the knife. He tightened his arms around his legs and sighed again.

 

_Am I really going to do this?_  he thought to himself.  _Am I going to actually_ kill _an Alpha guard?_  

 

It wasn't a matter of Dean being incapable of killing an Alpha like Alistair—he'd begun sparring with Alphas his father's age when he turned nine, and he'd kept up with his training in secret after he had presented. In addition, the few precious and rare times that Victor or Gordon managed to sneak Dean into their cavalry before going into battle served to give Dean real-world experience on the battlefield that simple sparring with Sam didn't provide. If anything, he was more capable than even the most advanced Alpha soldiers in his father's army when it came down to fighting techniques and strength.

 

No, it came down to the one simple fact he was reminded of almost every time he saw and scented Alistair or Castiel— _he was still an Omega._ And an unmated Omega, to make matters worse, which meant he would automatically go pliant and submit to any Alpha that showed any sign of dominance or forced Dean to present. Sure, Dean could easily ambush Alistair, or, in a worse case scenario, come right at him with the knife in hand like a madman and take him down with ease. But the moment Alistair's nasally voice managed to growl out, " _Present_ ," Dean would be done for. He shuddered as he imagined Alistair taking up Cas' knife and plunging it into Dean's chest, a wicked and evil smile on his face as Dean screamed in pain. 

 

_I could just not do it_ , the rational side of him chimed in.  _I could return the knife back to Cas and endure the rest of my imprisonment until I die in here or I'm executed._

 

Dean gritted his teeth and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He could feel his eyes beginning to sting with tears and he considered screaming in frustration. Either result of Dean's decision wasn't good—he'd either succeed in killing Alistair, then be immediately sentenced to execution; or he'd fail, and die most likely by Alistair's hand after the bastard had his way with him one last time. 

 

_How the fuck did I end up here?_ Dean thought miserably. He let his head fall back against the wall and imagined Winchester Castle—he thought of the maze-like building that was surrounded by the large city wall. He remembered how he and Sam would run about the castle, playing in the Great Hall when there were no meetings and filling the visiting dignitaries' helmets with the scraps from the kitchen when there were. He could almost feel the tall blades of grass rubbing against his legs as he sparred back and forth with his sword against Sam, and he could clearly smell the stables as he climbed atop Impala while Benny mounted the horse beside him. He felt his lips crack into a small smile that Benny returned, his blue eyes burning brightly. Suddenly, the blue eyes were slightly darker, and Dean was smiling at Cas, who sat in polished silver armor on top of a pure white horse. When Castiel smiled back, Dean finally opened his eyes and let his hands fall to the ground beside him. He sighed and glanced down at the knife, which hadn't moved from where he'd dropped it.

 

The idea came to him so suddenly that Dean nearly threw his head back into the wall behind him. 

 

_That's it_ , he thought, reaching forward and grabbing the knife's hilt. He stood up and went to a corner of his cell, one far away from the cell's entrance. In the corner, he'd balled up the cloak that Castiel had left behind and hidden it in a way that it wasn't visible from the front of the cell. Closer to the corner, Dean grabbed the cloak and began unrolling it. He listened carefully for any signs of Alistair and carefully laid out the cloak. When it was flat on the ground, Dean placed the knife in the center and wrapped the cloak loosely around it. With the knife completely wrapped in the cloak, Dean shoved the bundle into the corner, arranging it so it blended in with the shadows. He inspected his work and smiled.

 

_This is by far the most idiotic plan you've ever come up with_ , he thought to himself. For some reason, the voice in his head sounded almost exactly like Sam. His smile grew wider and he turned to face the front of the cell. He went up to the bars and shook them back in forth, surprised by how loud they were. 

 

" _Alistair!_ " he shouted, shaking the bars again. They weren't very structurally sound, Dean noticed. He was sure with enough shaking he could eventually dislodge enough of the bars that it would be easy to escape. But he could worry about that later. " _Alistair!_ "

 

The Alpha appeared from the shadows of the hallway, holding his hands to his head and his face twisted up in pain.

 

"Oi!" he snarled, hitting the bars of Dean's cell once he was close enough. The reverberations were enough that sent Dean backward a few steps in surprise. Alistair glared at Dean, pointing a finger at him. "You shut the fuck up with all that shoutin' and bangin' about. I feel like my head's about to fuckin' split open, and I _will_ kill you if you make my headache any worse." Alistair did look miserable and more disheveled than normal, Dean noticed suddenly. His face seemed grey and he had noticeable bags beneath his eyes. His clothes were rumpled and Dean saw stains on his uniform jacket and the tops of his trousers that looked like dried Omega slick. Finally, Dean noticed the colored bruise on Alistair's jaw that looked only a few days old. As Alistair came closer, Dean caught the scent of alcohol on the Alpha's breath. Alistair bared his teeth at Dean. "Now  _what the fuck do you want?_ "

 

 Dean swallowed against a sudden lump in his throat. He strode forward and grabbed the front of Alistair's jacket with both hands. He yanked the Alpha forward and pressed their lips together through the bars of the cell. The cold metal of the bars were a shock against Dean's face and he grimaced when he heard Alistair's surprised noise turn into a moan. Dean pulled back, his hands still on the front of Alistair's jacket. 

 

"The fuck was that for?" Alistair asked, though he was smiling smugly.

 

Dean looked down, his face flushing as he pretended to be suddenly shy. "I-I just...I missed you, is all," he lied, making his voice quiet and timid like a normal Omega's would be in the presence of an Alpha. He released Alistair's jacket and he watched Alistair's hand reach for the keys to Dean's cell. 

 

"It's the Omega in you, love," Alistair said, looking Dean up and down. "Your body's begun to miss my pheromones, so you couldn't help yourself when you saw me." Dean wanted to roll his eyes at Alistair's words, but he instead bit his lip then looked up and nodded slowly. Alistair chuckled, then reached forward to stroke the side of Dean's face. "Unfortunately, I can't knot you now, love. I have...a prior engagement I must attend to." Alistair smiled devilishly again, then reached forward to grab the back of Dean's head. He yanked Dean's face forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to Dean's lips that tasted overwhelmingly of ale.

 

"I should be back soon within a few days," Alistair said. His free hand reached down and around to pinch Dean's ass. Dean jolted forward against the bars and Alistair laughed when Dean winced. "Keep that ass tight for me, beloved." Alistair punctuated his point with a slap to Dean's, then released Dean and turned to leave the way he'd come. When Dean could no longer hear Alistair, who had begun annoyingly humming, Dean retreated back to the back of his cell. With his back to the cell bars, he opened his hand in front of his and exhaled in relief. 

 

Nestled in Dean's palm, detached from the others keys Alistair kept with at all times, was the key to his own cell. He'd seen it enough times whenever Alistair came into his cell, and Dean knew the Alistair always kept the key in the right pocket of his uniform jacket. Dean closed his palm and pressed it to his chest as he collapsed to his knees in front of the wall. He felt like crying in relief—the first part of his plan was done. 

 

Dean crawled over to the cloak and knife in the corner and unwrapped the knife. He placed beside the key and balled up the cloak again, this time using it as a pillow. He laid his head on it and sighed as exhaustion suddenly overtook him. 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did with the title...'cause it's been a while since I've updated. 
> 
> I'm sO CLEVER.
> 
> Like it? Leave a Kudos.  
> LOVE it? Hey, go on and leave a comment!


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